


A Time for Everything

by Zena (HowNovel)



Category: Starman (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-14
Updated: 2001-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-25 16:30:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/272380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowNovel/pseuds/Zena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott is now 20 years old and arrives with Paul at an Oregon seacoast town in their continuing search for Jenny Hayden. Meanwhile the case is closed, and Fox retired, living out of a RV. They find out about the good news when they stay in a small town and accept low profile jobs. But Fox still hasn’t given up and searches for the Starman on his own. He finds him and sees how Paul is rescuing a child from being run over by a car.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Time for Everything

A Time For Everything  
A Starman story by Zena

Paul Forrester opened his eyes and deeply inhaled the chilly salt-scented morning air. He stretched his stiff muscles and reluctantly crawled out of his lightweight sleeping bag. Despite lying in soft beach sand, the ground was no fluffy mattress. He looked to his left and confirmed Scott was still asleep, although the sun was fully above the horizon now. He smiled and quietly went to gather some wood for the campfire. Knowing his son as he did, the heat from the fire would probably be the only thing to entice the young man to come out of his own bag.

Starman ignited the sticks with his sphere. It didn’t take long for the fire to come to life with yellow and orange flames. He stared out at the ocean and caught a glimpse of something he had only seen a few times before on television. Paul grabbed his camera and put the high-powered telephoto zoom lens on. Looking through the viewfinder, he smiled at the sight of the bold aerialist hanging suspended by a harness underneath the silent contraption. He began taking pictures. A voice from behind caught his attention.

“Morning, Dad,” the still-groggy Scott groaned and yawned.

Starman returned the greeting.

“What are you shooting? Seagulls?”

There were three definitions of the word “shoot” that Paul was aware of. The first referred to firing a projectile out of a gun. The second, he learned, meant to proceed asking a question or to say something. The third dealt with photography and taking pictures. By now, he knew which one his son implied.

“No,” he said. “It was colored like a rainbow. Very beautiful.”

“What? I don’t see anything,” the young man said as he scanned the sky, puzzled by the description.

Starman gazed back out where he had seen the object, but it was gone.

Scott looked almost straight up. “Was it a hang glider?”

“Yes.”

“Like that one?” he said and pointed.

Starman followed his son’s gaze. “That’s it,” he said and took more pictures.

The bright multicolored glider slowly circled above them, climbing higher and higher.

“Looks like he’s riding the thermal from the campfire.”

“Where did he come from?”

Scott had very quickly discovered his father had an insatiable appetite for learning new things. In turn, he had to constantly educate himself just to keep up with his dad’s hunger for information. Sometimes it was a burden. This time it was a joy. “He probably jumped off the cliffs in back of us,” he said. “Wait for a breeze, then run and jump.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It can be. The breeze can die on takeoff. If you can’t stop in time, down you go. Or you can run into a sudden downdraft up there. Same result. People have been hurt, paralyzed, even killed doing it.”

“Then why do they continue to do it if it’s so dangerous?”

“Because most of the time, like now, it’s a lot of fun. Keeping watching. There are probably more around.”

Scott was right. Within a few minutes another brilliant blue and white striped glider soared overhead. It was even larger than the first one. Father and son watched as it gracefully turned and began circling above them, riding the same heat plume. The two gliders looked like eagles dancing on the wind.

Paul finished the roll of film in his camera. He was placing it in its little plastic container when he heard his son shout, “Dad! Look out!” The black and rainbow colored glider swooped inches above his head with a whooshing sound. He watched its pilot make a graceful landing a couple hundred feet away on the beach.

The man put the craft nose-down on the soft sand and detached the harness. He began walking towards the two dark-haired strangers.

“Good-morning,” Starman greeted.

“Good-morning yourself,” the pilot replied. “I’m Jesse.”

“Paul. And this is my son, Scott.”

“Pleased to meet you. I landed to warn both of you, you better put that fire out and get off the beach before the sheriff catches you. There’s no camping allowed here.”

“Thank you for telling us. We didn’t know,” Paul said.

“Did you guys sleep here last night?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re lucky you didn’t get caught. You’d have gotten a hefty fine.”

Scott helped his father douse the flames with sand and pack their gear. They followed their new friend to his glider. “We’re sorry you had to cut your flight short,” Scott apologized. “Can we help you get it back up so you can take off again?”

“It’s okay,” Jesse said. “I’ve got to get back to town anyway. There’s a path about a mile ahead that leads to the cliffs.”

“Mind if we tag along? We’ve never met anyone who hang glided before.”

“Yes. It’s very interesting. I’d like to know more about it,” Paul said.

“Okay. I’ll introduce you to my friends. We belong to a club. We call ourselves the Wind Dancers,” the young man explained. “We meet every weekend out here for a flight. Sometimes, if we can during the week, we try to get one quick flight in in the morning. That’s my friend, Kayla, up there in the tandem glider,” he said and pointed. “Where are you two headed?”

“Into town,” Scott replied. “Dad’s a photographer. He’s kind of in between jobs right now.”

“Do you know if there are any apartments available?” Starman asked.

The tall blonde-haired man hunched his shoulders. “You’ll have to get a paper and find out. I couldn’t tell you. Are you planning on staying in Breckenridge?”

“If I can get a job.”

They reached the top of the path. It was a short walk to the truck. Paul and Scott watched him dismantle the glider in minutes, rolling up the lightweight nylon fabric and stuffing it and the frame into a large plastic tube.

“You guys want a ride in?” Jesse offered. “It’s five miles to the center of town.”

“Yes. Thank you,” Starman said.

Father and son climbed into the pick-up truck, grateful their feet wouldn’t be aching today.

Their new friend stopped in front of the town hall. Paul and Scott got out.

“Good luck with that job. See you around,” Jesse said and drove off to the other side of the common.

“There’s a restaurant,” Scott told his father. The young man’s stomach was reminding him it needed a filling. “How much money do we have left?”

“Enough to buy a paper, call Liz and split a cheap meal,” Starman answered.

“That much, huh?”

“Yes.” Starman glanced around the common and spotted a boarding house. “C’mon. Let’s check in there and then we’ll come back here and eat.”

They went to the Welcome Inn to inquire what the monthly rates were for double occupancy rooms. Starman placed a call to Liz Baines in Chicago and she wired him the money for one month, plus some extra for expenses. He signed the register.

“It’s room 305, Mr. Forrester,” the clerk said, giving his new tenants the key. “No cooking, alcohol or parties are allowed in the room. The main door is locked at eleven PM. I give a five-minute grace period. After that, if you’re outside, you’re out for the night. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” He and Scott went to drop off their belongings in their new “home.”

 

Jesse Wolfe walked into the Sheriff’s office. “Hi, Dad,” he called out. “Dave,” he greeted Deputy Drummey.

“Son,” Ronald said looking away from the venetian-blinded window. “Who were those two fellas in your truck?”

“Newcomers. Paul and Scott,” he answered as he helped himself to a cup of coffee from the brewing machine. “Paul’s a photographer. Scott’s his son.”

“Where’d you find them?”

The young man grinned at his father’s third-degree questioning. It was something of a habit, and sort of to be expected when your dad was the local law enforcement officer. “Main road out by the beach,” he replied. What he didn’t say was he’d saved the pair from being fined. Jesse rather enjoyed rescuing innocent people from getting tagged by his father.

“I wish you listen to me and not pick up strangers,” Ron reproached.

Here we go,the young man thought. Another lecture. “I know, Dad, but they didn’t seem to be the serial killer type,” he retorted.

“You never know,” the sheriff fired back and pointed his finger at his son. “What did you say their names were?”

“Paul and Scott,” Jesse let out with a sigh. He knew what his father intended to do next.

“What about a last name?”

“Sorry. They didn’t give it and I didn’t ask.”

“Well, I can find it out.”

“I wish you wouldn’t,” he spat. “They haven’t done anything wrong. Why can’t you just leave them alone? Why do you have to run a check on every new face that walks into this backwater tourist dump?” he said in a loud voice and walked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

There was something about Paul that Jesse couldn’t quite put his finger on. He knew he’d seen that face before, just where he couldn’t remember. The place to start looking would be on the Internet. He hopped into his truck and headed for home.

Paul and Scott scanned the “help wanted” ads as they ate. Now that the young man had graduated from high school, he looked for simple handyman work: anything under the table that didn’t require employment forms to be filled out that George Fox could trace. Starman let Forrester’s driver’s license expire for the same reason. He assumed the FSA agent had the Department of Motor Vehicles of every state red-flagged. If so, then the g-man would find him when he tried to renew it.

“I’m going to check out that ad for a painter,” Scott said.

“I think I’ll see if I can sell these photos to the local paper.”

“See you later then.”

Scott called the number on the ad to make sure the job hadn’t already been taken. He was lucky. He got directions from the waitress and began walking to meet the woman he’d spoken with.

Paul’s attempt to sell his photos was unsuccessful. The editor wasn’t interested.

“If you get some photos of a fire or accident or something like that, then I’ll be more than happy to buy ‘em off you,” he said. There was no story in hang gliders. Starman decided to find the post office and mail the film to Liz. Maybe she could sell the pictures to someone. He went back to the inn to look at the want ads again.

After walking an hour, Scott went up the brick path to the house. He knocked on the front door. A young woman answered. “Yes? May I help you?” she asked.

“I’m Scott Hayden. I called you about a painting job.”

“Oh. Please, come in,” she invited. “I’m Kayla Ferrigan,” she said and studied the young man in front of her. “Aren’t you the guy I saw on the beach this morning?” she asked.

“Yeah. I was with my father. This guy, Jesse, mentioned his friend, Kayla. Was that you in the hang glider?”

“Yes,” the woman answered with a smile. “What a small world. Are you new in town?”

“Yeah, and I need a job.” Scott hoped his next words wouldn’t be taken offensively. “If I may ask, why isn’t Jesse helping you paint?”

“I got tired of asking him and waiting. I don’t have the time. I just want it done. How does fifty dollars a room sound?”

“That sounds great,” Scott said smiling. “How many rooms do you want me to do?”

“Seven. Ceilings too. You do do ceilings, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’ll do my best. When do I start?”

“Right now if you can,” she asked. “I have all the materials you need.”

“Just let me call my father and tell him I’ll be back late.”

Scott asked for the phone directory and looked up the number for the inn. He told his dad to eat dinner without him.

“Just remember to get back by eleven,” Paul reminded his son.

Jesse surfed the Net. Typing “photography” in the search engine window, several book listings by various authors came up. He began reading them. There was nothing on the screen by anyone with the first name of Paul. He hit the “page-down” key for more listings and blinked in surprise. There was one entry for a book titledEye Of The Stormby Paul Forrester. He brought up the information. His eyes widened in delight as he looked at the photo on the screen. I knew I’d seen his face before! You’rethatPaul! He printed out the display. Wait’ll Dad sees this! He thought with excitement and headed back into town.

Jesse Wolfe noticed his father stepping out of his squad car and headed for his office. “Hey, Dad! Wait!” he shouted and ran to catch up.

Ron stopped at the sound of his son’s raised voice and turned around.

“I found it!” the twenty-one year old exclaimed.

“Found what?”

The young man caught his breath. “I’ve been thinking about that guy I picked up this morning.” He told his father how he was sure he’d seen the man’s face somewhere before and showed his dad the paper. “Look. He’s a world-famous photojournalist.”

“Paul Forrester,” the sheriff mumbled, pleased. Now he had a starting point for his search. “Good work, son,” he praised and went into the office, straight for the computer. Jesse followed. He objected to his father’s nosiness, but remained quiet. He assured himself as he watched the inquiry being typed in, there’d be nothing to boast about and the matter would be settled.

Within moments Forrester’s profile came up on the screen. “Well, well, he’s got a record,” Ron smiled, gloating. “Been arrested a few times.”

The wind went out of Jesse’s sails. He looked more closely at the screen. “Mostly minor charges, though. Probably goes with his line of work,” he countered. He was confident the final words on the monitor would end any further prying into Forrester’s life. No current wants or warrants. “He’s clean now. No mass murderer.”

“Humph,” Ron sighed.

Jesse left the office.

“I’m still going to keep a close eye on Mr. Paul Forrester,” he said to Dave. “A troublemaker. That’s what he is.”

The deputy grimaced. What his boss didn’t say, but he already knew, was Ron Wolfe was trouble for the photographer.

It was ten-thirty. Scott thanked Kayla for driving him back to the inn. “See you tomorrow. What time?”

“Any time you’re ready,” she said.

The young man nodded and went inside. His shoulder and neck muscles were aching. He wearily climbed the stairs to the third floor, instinctively avoiding the elevator because it could become a trap. He knocked on the door to their room. “It’s me, Dad,” he announced and heard the door unlock.

Paul was lying in bed, ready for sleep. Scott assumed his father used the “finger trick,” as he liked to call it, to undo the latch.

“I bought you some dinner,” Starman said and pointed to the small paper bag on the single nightstand between his and Scott’s bed.

“Mm,” he grumbled and sat heavily on his own bed.

Starman sensed something was amiss. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing. Just stiff muscles,” he replied as he pulled out his sphere and activated it.

Paul watched with pride as Scott confidently used the orb to relieve his physical discomfort. With the soreness gone, his son’s appetite returned.

Scott took the burger and French fries out of the bag. “When did you get these? They’re cold,” he complained.

“So, warm it,” Paul said grinning at his son’s usual exhaustive crankiness. That trait still hadn’t changed.

He took a deep breath, looked into his father’s gentle eyes and sighed, then heated the food and slowly broke into a smile as he wolfed down the meal in less than five minutes. “Thanks, Dad.”

“You’re welcome.”

After eating at Joe and Rita’s Restaurant the next morning, Paul decided to explore while Scott was off painting. With his son due back late tonight again, there was nothing else to do. A block from the inn, he spotted a small grocery store. Scott taught him most of them had bulletin boards in or near the entrance. Most of the posted ads were for items people were trying to sell. Occasionally one was for someone looking for help, cheap. He went to check it out and to buy more film and a street map of the town.

Forrester carefully studied the little yellow and green cards with writing all over them. One caught his eye. It said, “Wanted: someone to do yard work”. He memorized the number and went to find a pay phone. A call confirmed the job was still available.

Jesse knocked on the screen door and heard a female voice inviting him in.

“Up here.”

He trotted up the narrow staircase. “Hi, Kay. I didn’t see you at the cliffs this morning, so I thought I’d drop by and see what’s up.” It was then he spotted Scott with a roller brush in his hand. “I see you found yourself a painter. Looks like he’s doing a good job.”

“Thanks,” Scott said and continued working.

He couldn’t wait to let her in on the exciting news. “Kay, I’ve got something great to tell you.”

She turned an attentive ear to him. “Yeah. What is it?”

“We’ve got a celebrity in town.” He watched her eyes light up.

“Who? An actor? Or singer?”

He regretted having to bring her excitement down a notch. “No, he’s not famous like that, but he is known world-wide if you’re into photography.”

Scott overheard the conversation and stiffened in alarm. Uh-oh. His heart began to race and he looked for an escape route. The doorway was blocked. I can jump out the window if I have to.

Kayla was impatient and neither she nor Jesse noticed Scott’s rising fear. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense. Who are you talking about?” she pleaded.

“His father,” the sheriff’s son pointed, while looking at her. “Paul Forrester.” He went on to explain. “I went home after dropping them off yesterday. His father’s face seemed familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before. Anyway, I went online and found his dad’s book.”

Scott tried to keep calm. There was really no harm in someone recognizing the famous photographer’s work. It was when they started to notice the differences between that Forrester and his father that things got dicey. He listened further.

“I showed it to my dad. Of course, you know what he did. He had to run a check on him through the police computer,” he sighed.

They were both startled by the sound of something hitting the floor. It was then they noticed Scott’s pale panic-stricken face.

“What’s the matter?” Jesse asked.

“Get out of my way,” Scott said and made a beeline for the door.

But the tall blonde-haired man blocked his path. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Scott stepped back and took a defensive posture. “Your father is the sheriff?”

“Yes.”

He bolted for the open window.

When Jesse and Kayla realized Scott was foolishly attempting to escape by jumping out, they caught and dragged him back in. Jesse wrestled and pinned the dark-haired young man to the wall.

“Let me go!” Scott shouted and struggled.

“No way. You’re in trouble, aren’t you?” he said and increased the pressure against him. “Tell us what you did. Maybe we can help.”

“We didn’t do anything. No one can help. You saw the readout. We’re wanted,” he grunted. “I suppose your father’s already called the FSA. How long before Fox gets here?”

“The FSA? I didn’t see anything like that. Who’s Fox?”

It was then Scott realized something was different. He ceased his resistance. “George Fox,” he panted. “He’s a Federal Security Agent. He wants us for questioning.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jesse said in a confused tone. “The computer showed your father’s clean. No wants or warrants.”

“What?” He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Or did he just imagine it?

“I said it’s cool. Your dad’s clean.” He cautiously released the newcomer.

Scott felt like fainting. He sank to his knees, hugging himself and began to shiver.

Kayla and Jesse looked at the young man in bewilderment. Something was very odd here. “I think you better tell us what’s going on,” Jesse suggested.

Kayla knelt in front of Scott and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He wanted nothing more than to get everything off his chest, but telling these people his secret was out of the question. “You said the computer showed there were no wants or warrants?” he asked, his voice on the edge of cracking.

“That’s right. Now tell us the story,” Jesse demanded.

Kayla shot him an angry look. “Back off,” she warned. It was obvious to her Scott was going through a traumatic emotional release. “Can’t you see this is overwhelming him?”

They waited for him to collect himself.

“I can’t believe it,” Hayden choked. “It’s over.”

“What is?” the woman gently probed in a soft soothing voice.

Scott began by telling these two about his mother giving him up for adoption. He told them about George Fox’s relentless pursuit and about his father’s return after fourteen years. “He wants us not for anything we’ve done, but for who we are,” he said.

Kayla was at a loss. “I don’t understand. So who are you? A spy or something?”

“Since he was a baby? That’s not it,” Jesse said, pointing out the error in her logic.

“Then what?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Jesse asked. “I’m not letting you out of here until you do.”

“I really can’t tell you what it is,” Scott repeated in a more urgent tone.

Jesse was ready to continue the affront, but Hayden cut him off. “Look. It’s a government secret,” he said. “I can’t say any more than that. Can we just drop it?”

The sheriff’s son thought it over. “Well, the feds must’ve dropped ‘it,’ because nothing came up about Fox or the FSA.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Scott told them, “You have no idea what it’s like to be on the run and in hiding. Trust me, you’ll give anything to have your normal life back. All I’ve ever wanted was a normal life. Maybe now I’ll finally find out what that’s like.” He slowly stood up. “I’ll clean this mess up, and then if you don’t mind, go back to town and tell my father the news.”

“Go tell your father now,” Kayla said. “We’ll clean up the spill.”

Scott headed for the door, then stopped. “Just one thing,” he said and looked at them, but Jesse in particular. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone about any of this. We don’t need things stirred up.”

Jesse stared into the young man’s pleading eyes. “Okay. I promise I won’t say a word.”

“Me, either,” Kayla reassured.

Paul left a message for Scott with the inn’s clerk in case his son came back early, then went to meet the placer of the ad. He stood at the front door and rang the bell. An elderly white-haired Oriental woman answered.

“I’m Paul Forrester, the person who called about the job,” Starman said.

“Oh,” she replied in a disappointed sounding tone.

“Is something wrong?”

She regarded the gentleman in front of her. “You’re older than my husband and I thought you would be.”

“Does that make a difference?” the celestial navigator wanted to know.

“Usually college kids answer the ad every summer.”

“If you prefer someone younger, I understand,” Paul said and turned to leave, but the woman called him back.

“No, wait. Please. I didn’t mean it that way,” she apologized.

Starman stopped and faced the lady.

“Have you ever done yard work before?” she asked in a gentler voice.

“A little.”

She thought it over and decided to give the man a try. She reasoned the worst he could do was trim the hedges bare, like the young kids she’d hired in past years did. They wanted the money, but paid little attention to the details of the work. Maybe he would do better. “I’ll pay sixty dollars total for mowing the lawn and trimming the hedges. Do you still want the job?”

“Yes,” Paul answered with a bright smile.

“Good. Come with me and I’ll show you where everything is.”

Scott ran the distance back to the inn like an Olympic marathoner, only slowing down so as not to attract attention to him within the last block. The inn’s owner spotted him as he entered the main lobby.

“Hey, kid. Your father left a message for you,” he said and handed the young man a small piece of paper. Scott thanked him and read the note. Went to the grocery store to check the bulletins for a job. Ask Mr. Winters if I’ve returned when you read this.“Did Dad come back yet?”

“I didn’t see him, but I’ve been kind of busy. He might have slipped in when I was in back.”

Scott thanked the man again and hurried up the stairs to their room. He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Using his key he opened the door, and once inside the room, he pulled out the orb to “call” his father. Dad. Answer me,he projected.

“Man, did that guy freak out or what when I told him my dad’s the sheriff,” Jesse said.

“Yes. It’s kind of sad when you really stop to think about it,” Kayla replied and went on. “I’m sure glad I’m not in his shoes. That guy, Fox, sounds like one nasty dude.”

Jesse stared at the young woman in disbelief. “You’re not buying everything he told us, are you? I find it very strange that the government’s been chasing him and his parents all these years if they’re just wanted for questioning. There’s got to be something else behind all this.”

She didn’t like his tone. Her instincts were warning her Jesse was going to pursue the matter further in spite of his promise to Scott. “He said it was a government secret. You gave him your word you would drop it,” she protested. “I don’t think he was making up any of what he told us. You saw how terrified he was. For Pete’s sake, he tried to jump out the window! Then when you told him his dad was clean… that emotional release wasn’t fake, Jes. He’s been through something terrible.”

“Or he’s an incredibly good actor,” he countered.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m sure he told us the truth. Promise me you won’t go digging it all up.”

“I can’t help it, Kayla. I’m going to college this fall to study journalism.” After initially intending to take a year off to decide whether to pursue a news career or one in some field of law enforcement, he had finally made up his mind four years later. “If Scott’s record is clean, then he has nothing to worry about. If he’s wanted, then I don’t want him around you. He’ll have to face justice.”

“You hypocrite!” she yelled. “You say you can’t stand it when your father noses around and checks on every new face that pops into town, but you’re doing it, too.”

She was right and he knew it, but this story of Scott’s was too bizarre. And all Scott would tell them was it’s a government secret. Probably classified. This has the makings of a best-selling novel,he mused. I could write it. If there was one thing he enjoyed, it was a mystery. Mysteries had secrets and he loved trying to crack them. He stood up to leave.

“Jesse. Where are you going?” Kayla demanded. She had a good idea where he was headed.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep my promise.” Not telling his father this crazy story didn’t mean he couldn’t do a little investigating on his own.

Paul felt a kind of pulling, or a tugging, it was difficult to describe the exact sensation, coming from his sphere. He reached into his pants pocket and touched it with his fingers. He “heard” Scott’s message. It was too risky to respond to his son’s summons out in the open, so he shut the lawnmower off and went to the front door of the house and knocked.

“Yes, what is it?” Mrs. Toyama asked.

“May I please use your bathroom?”

“Certainly.” She opened the door and showed him the way.

Once inside, he pulled out and activated the metal marble. Scott. What’s wrong?he projected, knowing his son would never have called him with the sphere unless it was extremely important or an emergency.

Where are you?

I’m doing some yard work for an elderly couple. What’s wrong? Is Fox here?

Nothing’s wrong. It’s just the opposite. We’re free, Dad! We’re free!

What do you mean?

I’ll tell you everything when I see you. He glanced at his watch. How about I meet you for lunch?

I don’t think these people will be offering me a lunch break, but come anyway. He projected the address and terminated the link, then took advantage of the break to use the facility for its intended purpose.

Jesse walked into the sheriff’s office. He noticed his father wasn’t there. “Hi, Dave. Where’s Dad?”

“Out on a call,” the deputy replied. The telephone rang and Officer Drummey picked it up. “I’ll be right there. Give me the address.” He took down the information, then hung up. “I’ve got to go, Jesse. There’s been a car accident. Would you mind watching the place until one of us gets back?”

“Sure.” He’d done it many times before. This is perfect,he thought. With Dave and Dad gone, I can run a check on Scott’s record without them catching me using the police computer. If Dad ever caught me doing this, he’d never let me watch the station again. Using the computer for inquiries was off limits unless his dad or the deputy was there. The FSA was going to be tougher. He could get the number for the agency from the computer, but calling them from the office phone was out. He didn’t want his dad seeing the call on the monthly bill. He was debating if he should call them or not. What if I get Fox on the phone? Then what? One step at a time. He typed in the inquiry on Scott Hayden.

Scott found his father neatly clipping the tops off the boxwood hedges that encircled the perimeter of the property. “Dad! We’re free!” he said excitedly in a low voice.

Paul took a moment to glance up at his ecstatic son as he kept working. In an equally hushed tone, he said, “Yes, you already said that. Now, slow down and tell me what’s happened.”

Scott could barely contain his exhilaration. He told him about Jesse dropping in at Kayla’s. “He said he found the original Paul Forrester’s war photo book on the computer. That got my interest.” He then reported how Jesse showed the printout to his dad. “He’s the sheriff’s son. He said his father ran a profile check on you. I panicked when I heard that and tried to escape out the second story window. Kayla and Jesse caught me and pulled me back.”

Paul stopped his cutting and stared at his grown child with raised eyebrows. For once he was thankful his son had not succeeded with his escape. A fall from that height could’ve resulted in a twisted or broken ankle or leg, possibly even death. He listened as Scott continued with his incredible tale.

“Jesse pinned me to the wall. He guessed I was in trouble with the law.” Scott was going so fast he could barely catch his breath. “Then they asked me to tell them what was wrong. They said maybe they could help. I told them it was all on the computer, that we’re wanted by the feds. That’s when he said your record came up clean! No wants or warrants.”

Paul’s eyebrows lifted higher. “Are you sure?”

“I couldn’t believe it myself, Dad,” he exclaimed, all wide-eyed. “I had to ask him again if it was true and he repeated what he said. The computer showed there are no wants or warrants out on you. If that’s so, then the FSA must’ve closed the case, or Fox is out, or he’s dead. We’re free!”

Starman took a deep breath and closed his eyes a moment. “What else did you tell them?”

Scott continued. “I gave them a brief story about mom giving me up for adoption and Fox chasing us all these years. They couldn’t understand and wanted to know why. I said I really couldn’t tell them because it’s a government secret. I asked Jesse not to say anything to his father. He gave me his word he wouldn’t.”

Mrs. Toyama came out of the house holding a plate with a sandwich on it and a dark-colored beverage. She stopped as she noticed the younger dark-haired man.

Paul turned when he saw Scott look at the house. “This is my son,” he said as she got closer.

The wary expression disappeared from the elderly Oriental’s face to be replaced with a smile. “I thought you might be hungry and thirsty. It’s twelve o’clock. Please take some time to eat.” She looked at the tall young man. “Give me a minute and I’ll make another plate for your son.”

“Thank you,” Paul said, gratefully accepting the food.

“Thanks,” Scott chimed in.

The woman bowed slightly and went back inside the house.

Father and son sat on a wooden bench under the shade of a large Japanese maple tree.

“I still can’t believe it,” Scott confessed. “I think I’m dreaming. Maybe I’m in shock.”

“That’s understandable,” Starman smiled. “I’m very surprised, too.”

Mrs. Toyama came out with an identical sandwich and drink and presented them to Scott.

He thanked her again.

“Is your son going to be helping you?”

Paul looked at him and answered, “If he wants to.”

“I can’t pay both of you,” she said.

Scott eased her worry. “That’s okay. You hired my dad, Ma’am, not me. I don’t want any money.”

She nodded. “Just leave the dishes on the steps when you’re done and I’ll take care of them.”

“We will, and thank you,” Starman said.

The woman left.

“I think we should still be cautious, just in case.”

“You’re right,” Scott agreed. “But do you know what this means? We can take regular jobs. We don’t have to stick to finding ‘under the table’ work like this.”

“I like ‘under the table’ work,” Paul said.

Scott gave his father an incredulous stare. “Are you telling me you enjoy cleaning people’s basements and garages, mowing lawns, raking leaves or painting houses and fences?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he smiled. “We’ve met a lot of interesting people that way. Do you know what else this means?” he asked and wiggled his eyebrows.

“What?” Scott asked, cautiously regarding his father’s expression.

“You can go to college now.”

He sighed. “Somehow I knew you were going to bring that up.”

Paul and Scott finished the job as the sun was setting. Both of them could hardly wait to get back to the inn to shower and use their spheres to ease the aching in their tired muscles. Mrs. Toyama came out as Paul put the cleaned mower and tools in the storage shed.

“It looks wonderful,” she said as she inspected the work. She handed him the money and asked him if he could return tomorrow to do some exterior painting.

Paul nodded. “What time would you like me to start?”

“Is ten o’clock all right with you?”

“Yes.”

The lady bid them good-bye and went into her house. They started the long walk back to the Welcome Inn.

When they returned, Scott placed a call to Kayla. “I’ll come back tomorrow, if you still want me,” he asked her.

She was happy to hear from him. After this morning’s incredible discovery, she thought he and his father might have left town already. “Of course, I do,” she said. Her curiosity became unbearable. “Did you tell your father yet?”

“Yeah. We still can’t believe it.”

“I’ll bet. Jesse and I are having trouble believing it ourselves.”

Scott became alarmed. He felt a knot developing in the pit of his stomach. If they started talking, then his newfound peace would be gone. “I didn’t lie, Kayla,” he insisted. “Everything I told you is true. I just hope you and Jesse keep your promise to me and not talk about it to anyone.”

She let out a groan of concern. “I’ll keep my promise, Scott. Cross my heart. But I don’t know about Jesse,” she confessed.

Starman’s son felt his panic rising again. “Why? What’s he doing?”

“I don’t know for sure. He left here after we talked more about you. I think he went to the police station to look at your father’s profile again, and yours.”

He cringed, fearful the inquiry would reveal some previous error and reactivate their wanted status.

There was silence. Instinctively, she sensed Scott was afraid again. “Don’t worry,” she said, trying to calm him. “Unless your father got arrested today, nothing’s changed. Jesse should get the same result. Your dad’s clear of any wants or warrants. I imagine your record’s clean, too.”

Her words failed to ease his fear. “I can’t help it. I am worried. He promised he’d drop it.” He hung up and went upstairs to his and his father’s room. He told him about the conversation he’d just had with Kayla. “Maybe we should leave tonight,” he suggested.

There was a definite risk in staying if Jesse did indeed break his pledge. Paul hoped his next words would put his son somewhat at ease. “I think the sheriff and his deputy would’ve been waiting and arrested us by now if something else turned up.”

Scott wasn’t convinced. “Maybe they’re outside right now just waiting to spring a trap on us.” His nervousness was clearly evident.

“Do you want to leave?”

“I don’t know what I want to do,” he sighed.

“We can take turns keeping watch tonight,” Starman suggested.

Sheriff Ron Wolfe strolled the town square early the next morning. He went inside Joe and Rita’s Restaurant and spotted the object of his search sitting alone at a back table. He walked over and took a seat opposite the man without asking for permission.

Paul’s heart rate quickened and he felt his throat constrict. Scott said they weren’t wanted, but fear set in nevertheless. He looked at the officer and quietly listened.

“Paul Edward Forrester,” Ron slowly began. “Pulitzer-prize winning photojournalist. I did some checking on you. You’ve got quite a rap sheet.”

Starman was familiar with the term “rap sheet”. Another thing he learned was not to respond with what Scott called “backtalk”, as officers seemed to enjoy any excuse to take their victim into custody again. He could, however, politely ask a question and hope it would not be construed as a challenge. “Are you going to arrest me?” he humbly asked.

“There aren’t any wants or warrants I can pick you up on, yet,” Ron grumbled. “I’m just going to give you a warning, Mr. Forrester. I’ve got eyes and I’ll be watching you like a hawk. I don’t like troublemakers and your record speaks for itself.” He got up and left.

So, it is true. Paul breathed a small sigh of relief, but tempered it with caution. I need to call Liz and Wayne and tell them we’re free. He decided to wait though, at least temporarily, until the sheriff relaxed his surveillance. He finished his meal and headed for Mrs. Toyama’s.

Scott walked at a casual pace to Kayla Kerrigan’s house. The closer he got, the more trepidation he felt, especially after yesterday’s telephone conversation. He kept wondering if he was walking into a trap. Would the sheriff or the deputy be waiting for him? Or Jesse? He kept a careful eye, watching for any signs he might have been followed. He spotted a neighbor setting up for a yard sale. There was a ten-speed bicycle in the driveway next to the garage. He could use the bike if he needed to escape in a hurry. He walked up to inspect it. The homeowner came out with another load of items for sale and saw him. “How much do you want for this?” he inquired.

“Fifty dollars,” the woman told him.

It was a fair price. The bicycle was in good condition. Only he didn’t have that much. Scott hoped he could strike a deal. “Will you take forty-five? That’s all I’ve got,” he said and pulled out his wallet, showing her the money. It was his share of the expense money Liz had wired to his father.

The woman hesitated. “Okay,” she finally replied, seeing how hopeful the young man was.

“Thanks,” Scott said and smiled, handing her the bills. He hopped on and discovered the tires were soft.

“It’s been sitting in the garage a while. It just needs some air,” she said. “There’s no hole or anything in the tires.”

“It’s okay. I’ll find a gas station and get them filled,” he told her. If he could find a place where no one could see him, he’d use the sphere to inflate them. He rolled the bike along as he continued his walk to Kayla’s house.

Scott was relieved that neither the sheriff nor the deputy’s car, or Jesse’s truck was there. He set the kickstand and knocked on the front door.

Kayla greeted him with a smile and motioned for him to come inside. “Hi, Scott. I’m glad you came back.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure if I was coming back,” he truthfully admitted. “After you indicated Jesse might be stirring things up… I’ve been so worried the sheriff was coming, I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“I’m so sorry,” she empathized. “You should know Jesse wants to be an investigative reporter when he graduates from college. Your story was like bait on a hook. I begged him to drop it, but he wouldn’t listen. If it’s any consolation to you, he said he’d keep his promise. I can only assume since you’re here and his dad isn’t, he didn’t find anything on you,” she reasoned.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” What he really felt like doing was decking the sheriff’s son.

She tried changing the subject. “I see you got a bike.”

Scott took a deep breath. “Yeah. Some lady up the street was having a yard sale. The tires are soft though.”

“No problem. I’ve got a pump in the garage. You get started painting and I’ll blow up the tires for you.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Kayla was glad to see the young man smile again. He headed upstairs and she went to the garage. Maybe now that Scott was a little more at ease, she could talk to him and hopefully get a more complete story than the abbreviated version he gave her and Jesse yesterday in his panic.

Starman arrived at the Oriental couple’s house. She showed him the deck and the front porch she wanted stained. He read the instructions on the container and followed them. As he worked on the front porch, he noticed Sheriff Wolfe slowly cruise by a couple times in his squad car. The man was keeping his promise to closely watch him. Paul dismissed the officer’s attempt at intimidation and continued working.

Kayla quickly learned Scott was reluctant to go into detail. There was only little more he added to his story. She discovered he had one brief glimpse of his mother when he was fourteen. That was six years ago. It all seemed so bizarre. Whatever the secret was, it was certainly something very special. His last statement chilled her.

“Fox didn’t want to just question us. He wanted to lock us up forever and throw away the key.”

“Oh, come on. You’re exaggerating.” The look in his eyes told her he was completely serious.

“Don’t worry. I’m not some serial killer or anything like that. I wouldn’t hurt you. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. The case is closed and I just want to forget it ever happened. Okay?”

Kayla nodded.

Scott had a puzzle of his own. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

She shook her head.

“Do you live here alone? Where are your parents?”

“My dad died in ’82 and my mom passed away less than a year ago. Being an only child, I inherited the house. I also got all the headaches that go along with it,” she explained.

“I’m sorry,” he offered.

“Thanks. The one saving grace in all this is the house is paid for. There’s no mortgage on it.”

“What do you do to support yourself?”

“I work at home. I run a transcription service and type resumes and stuff.”

“Oh. I kind of wondered why you didn’t have to leave to go to work.”

“You want some coffee or something?” she asked.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

She went to make it.

“That’s all I can do for today,” Scott said. “The paint should dry overnight before I give it a second coat.”

“It looks great so far,” she admitted. “And please, call me Kayla.”

“Okay. I’ll be back the same time tomorrow.” He started to leave, then stopped at the door. He couldn’t help but notice how pretty she was. He was sorely tempted to ask her out, but then he thought better of it. One thing he certainly didn’t want was to get into a confrontation with the sheriff’s son over her. He went outside.

Jesse’s truck was just pulling into the woman’s driveway. Scott eyed him with tightly controlled anger. He waited for the young man to get out and shut the truck’s door before beginning his assault.

“Scott,” Jesse said curtly.

“She told me you went digging yesterday. You promised me you would drop it,” he snarled in a low tone.

“Take it easy, man. I promised you I wouldn’t say a word to my father, and I haven’t.”

Scott remained silent, but still his eyes were cold.

“I checked your record,” Jesse admitted. “I got the same result as your father’s. No wants or warrants. You’re clean.”

Scott was relieved, but still unhappy with the man’s prying. He decided not to say anything and just hopped on his bike and pedaled as fast as he could back to the inn.

Scott carried the bicycle up the stairs and announced himself at the door. He heard his father unlock it and he went in. “You’re back early today, Dad.”

“Yes. I got back about a half hour ago. Where’d you get that?” Paul asked in surprise.

“At a yard sale I passed on the way this morning. I used my share of the money Liz sent.”

Ever since Scott introduced him to the manually powered transportation machine, he preferred it to cars, pointing out the benefits, like no need to buy gas which gave off toxic emissions, and there was no driver’s license or insurance needed to operate it. “They didn’t happen to have two, did they?”

“Sorry. We can keep a lookout for one at another yard sale or in the want ads,” he said. He sat on his bed and pulled his shoes off. “How did the painting go?” he asked.

“Fine. How about you?”

Scott told his dad about running into Jesse again. “He poked around and dug up my record.”

Starman patiently waited for his son to tell him the outcome.

“I’m clean, just like you,” he said with a smile.

Paul hated to spoil the good mood. He told Scott about the sheriff keeping him under surveillance.

Scott’s anger surfaced again. “Why don’t we just blow this town? We can find some place else to stay.”

“Are you finished with your painting job?”

“No,” Scott sighed. “It’s going to take a couple more days.”

“Then we’ll stay,” Paul said in a firm tone. He understood Scott’s being “ticked off” at the sheriff. “I have nothing to be ashamed of. As long as I’m careful not to let him catch me breaking the law by littering, or jaywalking, or something else like that, it’ll be okay. That goes for you, too.”

“I hate this,” he growled. “We finally get our freedom and the sheriff is watching you like you’re a criminal. Damn him!”

Starman had had this conversation with Scott many times over the past years. He knew the “him” his son just referred to was the original Paul Forrester, not the sheriff. He had to admit, the late photographer did have an uncanny knack for finding, and getting into, trouble. “I know. Just do your best to ignore it,” he said in a soothing tone.

“So what are you going to do tomorrow?”

“I’ll look in the want ads and check the grocery store bulletins again. I’ll find something.”

Scott had a suggestion. “Why don’t you put up your own ad if you like to do this kind of work? Handyman for hire. Just do the simple stuff like assembling those “put it together” furniture kits, or appliances or stuff. You know how to mow lawns, paint, clean, etc. Use this place’s phone number.”

Paul smiled. “”Good idea. I’ll do that.”

 

The next day, Starman got his first call for work as soon as he returned from posting his ad.

Retired Federal Security Agent, George Fox, drove his motor home, a hybrid van/camper, onto the Pacific seacoast road, northward to the next small town on his map. Retired. God, I hate that word,George thought. Damn those bureaucrats who cut my funding!

He couldn’t fault General Wade. The man tried. He’d gotten him money for his project through all the years since the alien’s first visit. In the back of his mind, George knew his luck would run out one of these days. That day finally came. He vividly remembered Wade calling him into his office three months ago and giving him the news. To make matters worse, government agencies were being downsized. His number had come up. He studied the situation. The alien project had become his life. As far as he was concerned, there was no future for him in the FSA without it. No way was he going to return to mulling over some stupid agriculture reports. He’d put in enough years, so reluctantly, but graciously, he accepted the only out he had other than quitting: early retirement. The final insult for those years of service to his country came when they gave him precisely one hour to clear out his belongings, close and turn in all materials on his project, and hand over his gun and badge. The latter had hurt the most. There was one bright spot among this fiasco. That incompetent idiot, Wylie, was out of his hair forever.

As soon as the paperwork for his finances had gone through, George purchased the used motor home. He kept only the most necessary articles from his apartment, terminated the contract with his landlord and hit the road for the west coast, the alien’s favorite stomping grounds. He smirked when his so-called friends said he was obsessed with finding Forrester. So what? I’m free to do as I want now,he mused. And I want to find that damned alien and his half-breed son. Someday I will. Several thoughts kept nagging at the back of George’s mind as he drove up the coast. Paul Forrester and Scott Hayden aren’t wanted anymore. I can’t arrest them. What am I going to do when I finally catch up with them? He pushed those thoughts aside. Worry about it later. Right now I still have to find the alien and his son. The low-fuel warning light flashed on the dashboard display. He hoped he had enough gas to make it to the next filling station.

George pulled into the local grocery market/gas-station parking lot to stock up on some much needed supplies. While he was at it, he picked up several papers. If he were lucky, maybe there would be a picture in there that the alien had taken. Scanning the tabloids had become the only clue to finding Forrester since he’d been forced to terminate all his “red-flags”. One more picture, that’s all I need. George put his groceries away, then settled into the “captain’s” chair driver’s seat with a large cup of black coffee and began thumbing through the stack of newspapers. Some were the “junk news” variety, others, the national and local rags. Retirement has its pleasant points,he mused. No schedules to keep. No reports due. Just concentrate on the goal and work at your own pace. He tossed the first newspaper onto the passenger side seat. There was nothing by Forrester in it. He started on the next tabloid.

George finished his coffee. He’d gone through seven papers with no luck. He picked up the last one. Turning the page, his eyes went to a photo of some hang gliders soaring against a cliff along with some seagulls. Over the years he had trained himself to look out for human-interest photos. Every tip-off to the alien’s whereabouts had come from such a picture. Some were actually quite good,he thought. He looked at the caption and credit and felt his heart skip a beat. There it was in plain black and white: photo by Paul Forrester. Further reading of the caption actually gave a general location for a change: Oregon. It wasn’t exact, but it was close enough. In the past, his partner, Wylie, had had to drill and grill the tabloid to find out where they’d gotten the photo. He smiled. With any luck, Forrester would still be in the area. George pulled the road atlas from the door pocket and began calculating the distance and time to get there. He started the engine of the RV, shifted it into drive and stepped on the gas pedal. He heard an odd thump. The vehicle didn’t move an inch. “Damn it!” he swore and pounded his fists against the steering wheel. “Now what is it?” He turned the motor off. Just when he had a real chance of catching up to the alien, another obstacle appeared to block his path. It almost seemed like someone was doing this to him on purpose. He reached for the cell phone and called the auto club for assistance.

It was half an hour later when the tow truck arrived and hauled the disabled camper to the nearest garage. The next piece of bad news was the repair and time estimate to correct the problem. “Two days! Twelve hundred dollars!” he shouted.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fox, but that’s the best I can do,” the mechanic said as he wiped his hands on a shop cloth. “Either that or get yourself another RV.”

“All right. All right,” George dejectedly replied. “Just fix it.” He reached into his pocket for the roll of antacids he always carried.

“I’ll order the parts today. You can stay in the motel down the street.”

Fox thought about his mounting expenses now that he was on a fixed income. “Why can’t I just spend the night in my RV? It’s not like I’m going to drive off with your tools,” he retorted. “I’d like to save a little money if you don’t mind?”

The middle-aged mechanic glanced at the short, gray-haired man. George’s attitude irritated him, but he had a valid point. With a busted transmission, he wasn’t going anywhere soon. “Okay. I’ll provide you with electric hookup, but don’t leave your vehicle after I lock up tonight. The security company brings the dogs in then. You’ll be stuck inside until morning when the handler comes to retrieve them, unless you want to be their dinner,” he finished with a chuckle and went back to work.

The ex-agent gritted his teeth and entered his motor home. He had all he needed for two days: food, toilet facilities, electric cooking range, a bed, TV and reading materials. He had more than plenty of the last item. What he didn’t have right now was patience. Forty-eight hours of sitting still when he had a lead was going to test his endurance to its limits. More than that, it was going to be hell. He picked up one of the newspapers he’d bought and started to read.

Fox gave the mechanic his debit card and impatiently waited for the machine to display the “approved” message. He couldn’t wait to get out of the two-bit hick town. Two days of hanging around while his motor home was repaired was by far too much time wasted.

“You have a one year warranty on the parts,” the mechanic said and handed him the paperwork to sign.

“Fine. Thank you,” he grumbled as he scribbled his signature on the receipt.

George was glad to be on his way. He felt further relief when he crossed the state line from California into Oregon. Now let’s hope you’re still here,he thought. The first three seacoast towns were dead ends. The next stop was Breckenridge. He pulled into a parking spot in front of a restaurant on the town square.

The sheriff returned from his routine patrol of the beach strip and slowly made his way around the common, taking in the sight of any new faces. Most were simple tourists passing through, or the surf and beach crowd. Although his son liked to accuse him of checking out every newcomer that came to town, it simply wasn’t true. Over the years, he developed a sort of sixth sense, being able to distinguish the average tourist, which he ignored, from the others who were here for another agenda. Those he kept a close eye on. The latter seemed to give off a kind of “vibe” that drew his attention. He noticed the short gray-haired man with dark sunglasses by the camper with D.C. plates. No bicycles, lawn chairs, umbrella, surfboard or other paraphernalia adorned the outside of the vehicle as he usually saw. The short man stood there and slowly surveyed the area before going into Joe and Rita’s eatery. Sheriff Wolfe felt the “vibes” screaming at him. This man wasn’t here for the scenery or the beach. He was one of those others with something else in mind. Possibly looking for someone or something.

 

Sheriff Wolfe walked into Joe and Rita’s and took a seat next to the gray-haired man. The restaurant’s waitress, co-owner and wife to Joe, came up to take his order. “A large cup of French vanilla coffee and a slice of your wonderful cherry pie, Rita.”

“Coming right up, Sheriff,” she smiled and went in back to the kitchen.

Ron looked at the stranger. “Howdy,” he greeted.

Fox merely nodded in return.

“That your camper out there?”

“Yes,” George said putting his own coffee down. “What about it? Am I parked somewhere I’m not supposed to?”

“No. I just noticed your plates. We don’t get many visitors all the way from Washington D.C. out here. You passing through?”

Fox had to chuckle inside. The man’s roundabout attempt to get information was so obvious; it was laughable. He was willing to play the game though. Maybe he could get some answers of his own. “If I don’t find what I’m looking for, yes.”

“And that would be?”

It was time to take the lead. “I think you ask too many questions, Sheriff. But since I could use your help, here it is. I’m George Fox, Special Agent with the FSA. Retired. I’m looking for two people: a man and his son. Their names are Paul Forrester and Scott Hayden. Have you ever heard of them?”

A federal agentRon blinked in surprise. “As a matter of fact, yes. They came into town about a week ago. My son,” he said with chagrin, “picked them up.”

George’s face lit with delight. “Are they still here?” he quickly inquired.

“Yes.”

Jesse walked in and saw his father. “Hi, Dad.”

“Son, I’d like you to meet George Fox. He’s a special agent with the FSA.”

“Retired,” the ex-agent added.

The young man’s eyes opened wide. Fox! This is the guy Scott said he and his father were running from! I don’t get it. The computer said their records were clean. What’s he doing here? “Hello,” he cordially said, maintaining his composure.

“We were just talking about that photographer and his son you picked up. Mr. Fox is looking for them.”

“Why? What have they done?” Jesse asked. Maybe this man could unravel some of the mystery behind Scott’s story.

“Sorry, kid. The case is classified and it’s closed.”

“So if it’s closed, why are you looking for them?” the young man persisted.

Fox smiled. “Let’s just say Forrester is an old acquaintance, and I have unfinished business with him, and Scott.”

The waitress came with the sheriff’s order and placed it on the table. “Anything for you, Jesse?”

“Yeah. A strawberry sundae sounds good.”

She went back to the kitchen to make it.

“I ran a background check on Forrester,” the sheriff admitted.

“Oh? Why?” Fox asked.

“Something suspicious sticks out about him. He’s got quite a record. The computer said there are no wants or warrants though. I’ve been keeping a watch on him.”

George became alarmed. “Does he know?”

“Yes. I told him I was going to.”

Then he must know he’s not wanted.

The sheriff looked the ex-agent square in the eyes. “Frankly I’m a bit puzzled. He doesn’t seem to fit the hell-raising image of the bio in his book or his police record. It’s almost the complete opposite. It’s like two separate people,” Ron said.

If only you knew how exactly right you are. “Sheriff,” George started and grinned. “The Paul Forrester out there is as far from the Paul Forrester that made that book as night is to day.”

“So what are you going to do?” Jesse asked.

“Watch them for now. That’s all I can do. When the conditions present themselves, I’ll try to talk to Forrester. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you would just stay out of my way. I don’t want you spooking them,” Fox said and sternly glared at both the sheriff and his son. “Either one of you. If they see me, they’ll most likely run. I’ve spent too much time as it is, tracking both of them down to lose them again.”

“Are we in any danger?” Ron asked with concern. “I can pick them up on something, trump up a charge if I have to.”

“No. Leave them alone. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” the sheriff replied.

“Do you know where they are?”

“Right off-hand, no. Scott’s been painting rooms for my son’s lady friend. Forrester’s been doing yard work around town. They’re staying at The Welcome Inn.”

Rita came with Jesse’s sundae. George nodded, paid for his meal and left.

Father and son silently regarded each other for a long moment.

“What are you going to do, Dad?”

“Keep watching Forrester,” he quietly replied. “I’ll keep my distance though.”

“I wonder what unfinished business that man has with them?”

“I wonder, too. Listen. Keep this between us, son. Don’t tell Kayla or anyone else about it,” he warned. “Let’s just see how this plays out.”

“Okay,” Jesse glumly agreed.

They both finished eating and went their separate ways.

Starman finished mowing the lawn. He returned the machine to the shed and brought the wheelbarrow and rake out. He noticed a camper with D.C. plates that was parked two houses distant on the opposite side of the street. He’d seen that same vehicle for several days now. At first he paid no attention to it, but he saw it again on the second day and again on the third as well. Once, he dismissed. Twice, he considered a coincidence. Now he suspected the owner of the vehicle was following him. The darkly tinted windows made it impossible to identify the driver. A tingly feeling overcame him when he looked at the camper. Could it be Fox?he wondered.

A couple teen-aged children with skateboards were practicing jumps from a homemade box ramp off to the side at the far end of the lightly traveled street. Directly across, a young boy around four or five years old, rode up and down his driveway on his scooter. Twice already, Paul had seen the mother stop her window washing to scold the youngster for rolling out into the middle of the street. The child would listen and obey for a short while, then ignore the warning and continue his dangerous play.

Paul saw the sheriff’s car turn onto the street and park equally distant opposite the direction of the camper. Officer Wolfe warned him he’d be keeping and eye on him, and true to his word, he had. Starman tried to ignore his audience and went on with the job he was hired to do.

A red mid-sized car turned onto the street where the teens were and accelerated. The little boy was starting another run down the driveway. A line of tall evergreen bushes serving as a property divider extended almost to the street, blocking the child’s view of oncoming traffic, and the driver from sudden entrances. A collision was eminent.

Paul quickly decided using the sphere was out of the question. There were too many potential witnesses. He sprung into action. It was over in a matter of seconds.

Fox watched in open-mouthed astonishment as the alien dropped the rake, bolted across the front lawn onto the road, directly crossing the path of the oncoming car, which just passed his RV. Then he saw the boy.

Sheriff Wolfe looked on in stunned disbelief as Forrester snatched the child from the scooter and narrowly avoided getting hit himself by the slimmest of margins.

Paul heard the high screech of tires skidding on pavement as the driver slammed on the brakes. A metallic crunch sounded as the scooter impacted with the car’s front end.

At the horrifying noise, the boy’s mother instantly appeared from around the side of the house just in time to see the tall, dark-haired stranger who’d been mowing her neighbor’s lawn, stop at the end of the driveway with her son in his arms. “Jason!” she screamed hysterically and ran to him.

Paul put the child down. The woman knelt, tightly embraced and kissed the boy. “Jason. Oh, Jason honey. Thank God you’re okay,” she cried.

The sheriff quickly pulled his squad car up to the scene and parked it in front of the red car.

The teen-aged boys and the woman who’d hired the Starman came out to see what had happened.

The child began to cry at the sight of his broken scooter, oblivious to the fact he’d just missed getting killed.

Ron Wolfe went to the driver of the vehicle. The middle-aged woman was sitting with her hands covering her mouth, shaking and desperately trying to keep herself from crying. “Are you all right, Ma’am?”

The woman nodded.

“It’s okay. Just try to keep calm. I saw the whole thing. You didn’t hit anyone. Just stay there. I’ll be right back.” He went to check on the photojournalist and the boy. “That was an incredibly brave, and foolish, thing you just did, Mr. Forrester. You almost got yourself killed.”

“The boy didn’t see the car coming. He was going to get hit if I stood by and did nothing.”

“I’m not condemning you. We’re all grateful you saved him.”

Paul was at a loss to understand what the sheriff wanted to say. He looked at the distressed driver and went to her. “I’m sorry I scared you. I had to prevent the boy getting hit,” he explained.

“I… I know,” she choked out. “I’m just thankful I didn’t hit either one of you.”

Starman smiled. “I’m thankful, too.”

Jason’s mother joined them, holding the child in her arms.

“I’m sorry his toy is damaged,” Paul apologized. “If you’ll permit me, I’d like to fix it.”

“I don’t give a damn about that thing!” she said. “I’m going to throw it in the trash. I never want to see it again.” The boy cried louder. When his wailing subsided somewhat, she said, “I want to say thank you for saving my son.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m going to need statements from you, Mr. Forrester, and you, ma’am,” the sheriff addressed the driver.

“I have work to finish.”

“Give him your statement,” the woman who hired him said. “It’ll just take a minute. I’m sure the raking can wait that long.”

The sheriff took Paul aside first. Starman recalled the events of the last few minutes as the officer requested, in detail. When he finished, Fox was standing there waiting for him. He felt his heart quicken its pace.

“It’s been a long time, Forrester. We finally meet again. Can we talk a moment?”

Paul cautiously regarded the man. Something was different. He noticed the clothes. Gone was the business suit and white shirt with tie. The agent was casually dressed in a conservative plaid, short-sleeved shirt. Starman hesitantly went up and quietly waited for him to speak.

Fox noticed Forrester’s nervousness. “You can relax. I’m not going to arrest you,” he said, trying to put the alien at ease. “I’m retired. You’re a free… man,” he added, saying the last word with a deliberate pause.

Paul’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, I know. Scott found out my case is closed the day after we came here.”

The ex-agent was about to ask how that happened, but dismissed it as irrelevant. “I’ve been watching you.”

“I know. I’ve seen your vehicle following me every day since I first spotted it.”

Damn. Why am I finding it so hard to just talk to him? Forrester gave him the opportunity to begin the conversation anew with his next question.

“If you are, as you said, retired, then why are you here?”

“The government may have cut my funding and forced me out, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from finding you.”

“Well, you have. Now what?” he asked. “As you said earlier, I’m free. If you thought I was going to be happy to see you, you’re mistaken.”

Fox had no illusions about that. This was not going the way he wanted it to go. “I expected as much.” He tried another tactic. “I saw what you just did. You surprise me. You risked your life to save that kid.”

Forrester cocked his head slightly, a habit he did when something was plainly obvious, or puzzling. “Why does that surprise you? Do you believe I’m incapable of feeling concern for the boy? To stand by and watch him get killed when I could prevent it would’ve been wrong. You would’ve done the same.”

“Of course I would. I just didn’t think…”

“What?” Starman interrupted. “I would care? Well, I can and I do. Just because I do not come from here doesn’t mean I’m incapable of having human feelings the same as you do.”

“Human, Forrester,” George said in a firm, but low voice, so the others couldn’t hear. “That’s the key word.”

Paul took a deep breath and let it escape in a sigh. “I see. Mr. Fox, six years ago you made it very clear what you thought, and how you felt, about my son and me. You said we were a danger. Something I believe you want destroyed and eliminated. Even a few minutes ago, I heard your… difficulty… at calling me a man. Apparently your opinions about us have not changed. Until they do, there’s not much we can discuss. If you will excuse me, I have work to get back to,” he finished and turned to leave.

“You’re angry with me.”

He stopped and looked at the ex-agent with a deep sadness in his eyes. “No.”

Now Fox was confused. “If you’re not angry, then what?”

“Disappointed.”

He was about to return to his camper when the sheriff spotted him.

“Did you see what happened here?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’re a witness. I’ll need your statement, too.”

The ex-g-man returned to his RV after giving Sheriff Wolfe his account of the event. He watched the alien rake the dried cuttings off the lawn. This was the first chance I’ve had in years to talk to him, one on one, as a free being, and I blew it. I offended him simply because I hesitated in calling him a man.But he just couldn’t bring himself to think of Forrester as anything other than an alien. Then there was the issue of his being a danger to humanity. After witnessing today’s incident, George conceded,I might have to re-examine that point. Damn it! I didn’t want to get into an argument with him!

 

Paul noticed Fox was still observing him. He finished the job. He stopped and locked eyes with the ex-g-man for a long moment, then started the walk back to the boarding house.

Starman exited the bathroom after happily showering the sweat and grime off. Scott had just arrived “home” from his painting job.

“I saw Mr. Fox today,” Paul informed his son.

The young man instantly looked at his father in surprise and alarm. “Fox is here?”

“Yes. He’s been watching us. Me,” he corrected. “For several days now.”

“I haven’t seen him.”

Forrester went to the window and motioned for Scott to join him. “There,” he pointed down to the camper.

“The RV with the D.C. plates.” His father nodded. “So how did you two meet?” Scott asked in a quieter tone.

“He saw me save a young child’s life today.” He told his son how he ran and snatched the little boy from the scooter moments before the car would’ve hit him.

“You could’ve been killed, Dad!” he exclaimed. “Why couldn’t you use the sphere?”

“There were too many potential witnesses around,” Starman gently smiled. “I took whatever human action was necessary to prevent the accident. Sheriff Wolfe was there and asked me to give a statement for his police report. When I was finished, Fox was standing there waiting for me. We talked.”

“About what?”

Paul’s face took on a sadder expression. “Us. I’m afraid our conversation didn’t go well. I didn’t help matters either. I’m sorry to say I got annoyed at him. He still believes we’re a danger. He’s waiting for me to do something, or make some kind of mistake, so he can prove it.”

“Let’s just get out of here.”

“No,” Paul firmly said. “If we run, he’ll only follow. There’s a time for everything. It’s time, as you’ve said, to make our stand. Let him watch us. Talk to him.” He could see his son soundly reject that idea. “It’s the only way to rid him of his fear of us. If we just go about as we have, sooner or later he’ll realize we’re not the threat he perceives us to be.”

“Yeah, right,” Scott snorted. “What year do you expect that to happen? 2050?”

Starman knew the figure was said in jest as Fox would never live that long. He gazed out the window again. “I still have hope, especially after today’s incident, that he’ll change his mind about me,” he softly said.

“He should’ve done that years ago.”

Three days had passed since Paul saved the boy. Each day, Fox followed the Starman whenever he left the inn and stayed within sight of him, but did not attempt further communication.

Paul and Scott sat at a table near the back of the restaurant. Sheriff Wolfe was seated across the narrow aisle further down with George Fox. Starman immediately noticed his son bristle at the ex-agent’s presence. Paul tried to make visual contact with Fox, but the man quickly averted his eyes. The gentle extraterrestrial was unsure if it was from guilt or shame.

Kayla and Jesse walked in. Paul noticed his son eye the woman.

“Hi, Scott, Mr. Forrester, “ she greeted as they approached. Jesse merely nodded.

“Hi,” Starman’s son sheepishly replied with a smile.

Paul decided to take the initiative and ask them, “Why don’t you join us?”

“We’d love to,” Kayla said and pulled out a seat before Jesse could object. “Thank you.”

“Would both of you like to join us?” Starman asked the sheriff and Mr. Fox. Paul felt his son kick him in the leg. He gave him an admonishing grin.

To Scott’s dismay, the sheriff and the ex-g-man accepted the invitation. To his relief, they sat at the far end.

They just finished ordering their dinners when everyone felt and heard a thump. It didn’t seem to come from anywhere in specific.

“What was that?” Kayla asked as she looked around in confusion.

“I don’t know,” Jesse replied.

“Maybe there was an accident,” Ron said. “I’d better go out and take a look.” He had just excused himself when everything began to shake violently. “Earthquake! Get out!”

Everyone tried to make a run for the exit, but it was impossible. Kayla dived under a table for cover when heavy chunks of ceiling plaster began falling down in a deadly rain.

Paul and Scott scrambled under their table, as did Jesse, the sheriff and Mr. Fox. The plate glass window at the front of the building suddenly exploded, sending bits of flying glass everywhere. Above the roar of the quake, the old brick and wood building groaned and heaved.

Paul had no choice this time. He pulled out his sphere and activated it, forming a protective shield around himself and the others. The groaning continued. The entire second and third story was going to collapse on top of them any second from now, burying them under hundreds of pounds of rubble.

Kayla turned her head to look at the others and caught the sight of an eerie blue glow coming from something in Forrester’s hand. “What is that?” she asked.

“That’s the secret I couldn’t tell you about!” Scott shouted. “It’s a part of who we are!”

The sheriff could barely hear the young man over the noise. “Is that what was classified?” he asked Fox.

“Yes!” the ex-agent replied with his hands over his head.

The amount of energy Paul needed to hold the crumbling building up was directly proportional to the tremendous weight and force threatening to bring it all down on them. Abruptly as it began, the shaking subsided. “Go! Now!” he yelled. All the others, except his son, made a beeline for the safety of the open street. “Go, Scott!”

“I can help, Dad,” he protested and reached into his pocket for his own sphere.

Starman was adamant about his son’s safety. “Go! I’ll follow you. Hurry. I can’t hold this up forever.”

Scott reluctantly obeyed.

The Starman was beginning to sweat and shake from the strain. His son was almost out. “C’mon, Dad!” he heard him call from outside. It was his turn. His muscles ached like an untrained athlete’s would the day after running a marathon. He started to crawl out when the ground and building started to shake again. He couldn’t hold the building up any longer.

Scott, Kayla, Jesse, Sheriff Wolfe and George Fox watched in horror as the restaurant collapsed on itself.

“No!” Scott screamed and tried to go back in, but Jesse and Kayla held him back. The shaking stopped seconds later. It was over, for now.

Paul could barely move in the tiny space he lay in. The table he had sat at was now serving as the ceiling of his cubbyhole. His efforts to hold the building up so the others could escape left him too exhausted to move an inch of debris to free himself. He guessed Scott wouldn’t be able to help him either. Years ago he sat his son down and seriously discussed what their course of action would be in the event just such a circumstance occurred. They had agreed, albeit Scott did reluctantly, that neither would use the orb and expose their secret if too many witnesses were around. Starman reasoned he could confide in Jesse, Kayla and the sheriff, but not all the other townsfolk. As the seconds passed, he was sure there were too many people outside by now for Scott to attempt to free him with the sphere. His rescue would have to come by conventional methods, slow though they were. Even though it would take several hours, possibly days, a methodical search and digging was his only way out.

“Let me go!” Scott yelled and struggled, but the sheriff’s son only held him tighter. “I’ve got to help my father!” he cried in anguish.

“We know,” Jesse acknowledged. “Just wait a couple minutes to make sure everything settles down.”

“No!” Scott was frustrated. These people didn’t understand they were quickly killing any window of opportunity he had at helping his dad. He struggled harder and felt himself breaking free.

Jesse called to his father. “Help me. I can’t hold him!”

Ron quickly grabbed Forrester’s son by his arms. “My son is right,” Sheriff Wolfe pleaded, shaking Scott by the shoulders. “We’ll give it a few minutes, then we’ll start searching.”

Scott wasn’t paying attention. He was desperately looking for some secluded place where he could use the sphere.

“Listen to me boy!” he said and shook the young man again harder.

Scott saw the other townsfolk assembling in the street. It was too late. His “window” was gone. He ceased his struggle. C’mon, Dad,he prayed. Move that stuff.

Jesse and Kayla glanced around. “Anyone seen Joe and Rita?” Jesse asked loudly.

“Over here!” a husky male voice answered roughly one hundred fifty feet to their left. The restaurant’s owners had escaped through the small kitchen’s back door, which Joe usually kept open for extra ventilation.

Deputy Drummey made his way to the sheriff. “Boy, that was a big one. Everyone all right?” he asked.

“No,” the sheriff said. “His father’s still in there,” Ron added in a softer voice, nodding to Scott and the ruins of the small restaurant.

“Oh, my God.”

The sheriff took charge. “Let’s move back, people,” he shouted and began urging everyone to the safety of the wide-open grassy common across the street.

Paul knew he had a serious problem. He estimated there was only enough air in the hole to breathe for ten, maybe fifteen minutes maximum before carbon dioxide levels became toxic. What he needed, if he had any chance of surviving this ordeal, was to create a tube to deliver a fresh supply of oxygen. Taking the still activated sphere, he “aimed” it in what he assumed to be the best possible direction, and “fired” a pencil-thin beam of light like a laser to the surface.

It had only been a couple minutes since the shaking stopped, but it felt like much more to Scott. Suddenly there was an explosion. People were knocked back or ducked for cover as debris flew in every direction. A huge orange fireball turned into a white mushroom cloud almost directly overhead.

“Jesus!” Dave exclaimed as he cautiously lifted his head to take a peek. “Must have been a gas leak in there.”

The two hundred gallon propane tank the restaurant had used to cook with had just blown up.

Scott sat up numb with shock. He was sure his father was dead now. No one could’ve survived being in the middle of that blast. If his dad had escaped like everyone else, then sure, he could’ve protected them, but he didn’t escape. What happened?All he could do was stare blankly ahead in a daze.

Fox looked at Scott and had an epiphany, albeit it had come too late. He had seen his dangerous alien use its almighty, and potentially destructive power, to save them all from death, a death apparently It itself had been unable to escape. And its half-breed offspring? Scott was acting like any other normal human who had suddenly witnessed his parents horribly die. He was traumatized.

The ex-agent heard the wailing siren and loud horn of an approaching fire engine over the numerous car alarms that had gone off. Someone had called the department, if the telephones were still working, or they were simply responding to the visual cue, a towering column of black smoke. George took charge. “C’mon, Scott. Let’s go,” he softly said as he stood and lifted the young man up. He gently guided him away. The alien’s son had seen enough tragedy for one day.

“Where are you taking him?” the sheriff asked.

“Over there to my camper,” Fox said nodding to the vehicle on the other side of the common and parked directly across the street in front of the inn. It had survived relatively unscathed, except all the windows on the side that faced the restaurant had been shattered by the concussive force of the explosion. Jesse and Kayla followed him.

Scott was easily directed to the RV. George carefully pulled the glass-covered blanket off the bed and dumped the shards into a waste container. The two young people eased the Starman’s son down onto the bed. The ex-g-man gave the woman the blanket and she covered Scott. He was still staring blankly up at the ceiling.

Jesse took a seat at the tiny table. George and Kayla took the driver’s and passenger-side seat respectively. There was nothing they could do now except wait.

“What was that blue light in Mr. Forrester’s hand?” Jesse asked Fox. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. It was weird.”

The two young people both looked at the gray-haired man, who remained silent.

“You know what it is, don’t you?” Jesse challenged.

“Yes,” George said and refused to elaborate.

“Scott said it was the secret he couldn’t tell us about,” Kayla said.

“He also said it was a part of who he is,” Jesse added.

“What did he mean?”

“I don’t know.”

They both looked at Fox again.

“It’s classified,” is all George would say.

The three of them watched as the firemen tried to extinguish the flames from the burning mess.

Soon after they heard Scott begin to stir. Kayla was the first to go to his side.

“Careful, Miss,” Fox warned.

She shot him a quizzical look. “Why?”

George got up and went to stand near the bed. “He’s coming out of shock,” he explained. “Don’t get too close or touch him. He might have a violent reaction when he snaps out of it. Just stand back and let it happen.”

Almost on cue, Scott sat up and screamed, “Dad!” He blinked, then gasped as if he were suddenly starving for air. He began to tremble and moan. The hot tears followed.

Kayla sat on the bed and reached over to embrace him. “Scott, I’m so sorry,” she softly crooned.

Jesse and George watched in silence as the woman gently rocked the young man back and forth, trying to soothe him.

Fox opened the small refrigerator, pulled out a small bottle of spring water and gave it to the woman. “See if you can get him to take some.”

Kayla released Scott and presented him the water.

The young man’s sobs quieted. He refused the drink. He began to take notice of his surroundings for the first time. His eyes locked on Fox’s. As much as he would like to blame the man for what just happened to his father, he couldn’t. It was just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Scott caught a whiff of fresh air blowing in the hole that was once a window. He pushed the curtain aside and looked at the still burning remains of the restaurant. “Dad,” he cried, his voice cracking. Kayla moved off the bed as Scott got up and exited the RV.

Jesse moved to stop him, but Fox quietly said, “Let him go.” They all followed Forrester’s son as he walked across the grassy common to stand and watch the flaming rubble.

It took three hours for the fire department to quench the fire. Volunteers were rounded up immediately to comb the mess looking for Paul Forrester. It was dark now and portable floodlights were brought in to continue the search. Scott was the first one to start calling his dad’s name and removing debris.

Four hours later, the young man was beyond exhausted, but he still kept helping the rescue teams. It was the sheriff who finally had to drag him away. Ron brought him back to Fox’s camper where the ex-agent, Jesse and Kayla were gathered for a short rest.

Kayla was the first to break the awkward silence. “Scott, what was that blue light I saw?”

He looked at Fox. The expression on the agent’s face warned him not to say anything. He shot the man a stare that told him he intended to do the exact opposite. They had all seen the light and been saved by it, including Fox. They deserved to know the truth. “It’s a part of who and what I am; what Dad was,” he finished with a lump in his throat.

“I don’t understand.”

He decided the best way to explain it was just to say it. “My father was an ET. I’m his son.”

“An ET? Like from out there?” she asked and pointed upward.

“Yes.”

“That’s not funny,” she snapped.

“It’s the truth.”

“He’s not joking, Miss,” Fox seriously injected. They looked at him. “I’ve spent the last twenty years trying to catch up with him and his father.” He noticed an enraged look spread across Hayden’s face.

Now Scott’s story of the life-long pursuit all began to make sense to the young couple.

“A real ET?” Jesse whispered, astonished. “And you’re one, too?”

The young man’s eyes softened. “Only half. My mother is human, from Wisconsin.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“I’ll prove it.” Scott pulled out and concentrated on his sphere. It illuminated with its soft blue glow. He levitated the water bottle above the little table. For added effect, and to dispel any notion it was a simple levitation trick, he circled it once around Jesse’s head before gently settling it back down.

“Whoa! What is that?” the sheriff’s son asked, suddenly fearful.

“It’s a gift from my father. It let’s us do things.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, things like melt the lock on a jail cell, or project a holographic image of a fire truck headed straight for you that disappears when you come in contact with it. Or drive a van without the driver at the wheel,” Fox told them. “He’s also created a ring of lights in the sky.”

“Or keep a building from collapsing on top of us?” Ron added with sudden understanding.

“Yeah. I used to talk to my Dad with it, too,” Scott said and choked up again.

Kayla’s eyes lit up. “Have you tried to contact him with that since the quake and the blast?”

He gave her a sarcastic glance. “After that explosion…” he said. “What’s the use? He’s dead.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” she countered. “Try it,” she encouraged.

“Yes, try it,” the sheriff agreed.

“Do it, Scott,” Fox urged. “Maybe he is still alive.” It would be a miracle, but I’ve seen him pull off a few miracles before.

Starman’s son was taken aback by his ex-enemy’s willingness to go along with their idea. He grasped the thread of hope that they were right. Everyone watched as he concentrated again on the marble and it came to life. The soft blue light filled the camper and a barely audible hum accompanied it. Dad. Answer me if you can,he projected. He waited for what he thought was ample time for a reply, but none came.

“Well?” Kayla asked.

“Well, nothing!” he exploded. “I told you he’s dead!” He threw the sphere at her in his grief and ran out of the RV.

“Scott! Come back!” the woman shouted as she stepped out of the camper after him.

It was no use. He was already half a football field’s length away. She went back inside and closed the door.

“Don’t worry, Miss. He’ll come back for this when he calms down,” George said as he held up the silver ball.

“Let me see that,” Ron Wolfe said.

Fox gave it to him.

“Looks like a pinball to me.”

“Believe me, Sheriff, that thing is anything but a pinball. It’s a matter of national security. It’s classified top secret, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep it that way. All of you. That means you forget you ever saw any of what you’ve seen here today. You don’t talk about it to your friends or family. No one.” They looked at him for an explanation. He continued. “For Scott’s safety, it’s better if the rest of the world doesn’t find out what he is,” he said and ended it there.

“Why?” Jesse naively asked.

The sheriff envisioned the darker picture. “Use your imagination, son,” he replied. “What do you think will happen to him?”

The young man thought about it. After a moment his face took on a blank expression. His father noticed and spelled the facts out for him.

“After the discovery, people’s fascination would become fear. They’d quickly turn on him. Eventually they’d kill him.”

Kayla was horrified at the thought.

“So far as we know, only Scott has, and his father had,” George added in a somber tone, “the ability to use that. To any other human, it’s nothing more that a pinball.” On a final note he said, “In the wrong hands, that thing is potentially more dangerous than any weapon on Earth.”

Ron Wolfe quickly put the sphere on the table as if he’d just burned his fingers.

Fox picked it up. “I wouldn’t worry, Sheriff,” he said with a wan smile gazing at the alien’s power source. “Scott’s not your ‘out to destroy the world’ type alien. Neither was his father. I just wish I’d seen that sooner.”

There was a short silence.

“I’m going back to help with the search,” Kayla said. “Who’s with me?”

They all followed her.

Scott found himself sitting on the front steps of the local church he passed on the way to Kayla’s house. He didn’t know why he’d chosen to stop here. It just seemed to be the appropriate thing to do. The doors to the church were locked. He cursed himself for losing his temper like a child, and his sphere. If he couldn’t be inside the church, the stairs were close enough. He thought about saying a prayer, asking for a miracle, but gave up the idea. After what he’d seen today, it seemed clear to him the deck of cards was stacked against it.

It was dawn when one of the volunteers cried out, “I found him! Over here!”

Kayla, Jesse, Ron and George converged on the spot along with everyone else, including the local, regional and national newspaper reporters as well as half a dozen or more television crews. It was an ironic twist of fate. When word of the Pulitzer Prize winning, world-famous photojournalist’s identity leaked out, the media descended upon the town. The rescue of Paul Forrester had become a national news item. They watched and waited with anxious hope as the rescuers removed more charred debris. Finally, they had enlarged the tiny hole enough for one of the emergency medical technicians to reach in and check the Starman for life signs.

Fox seriously prayed they would be able to tell Scott good news. The silence in the air was deafening.

“I can’t find a pulse.”

George’s heart sank. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. I guess there’s no miracle for you this time. He heard some audible sighs of disappointment.

The EMT listened harder. “No, wait. There it is. Faint. Very slow. He’s alive!” he said loudly for all to hear.

A cheer went through the crowd. The ex-g-man smiled as Kayla embraced Jesse and they danced with joy. So Forrester, you pulled it off after all.

“Where’s Scott?” she asked. “We’ve got to tell him his father’s not dead.”

“I haven’t seen him since he took off running from Mr. Fox’s RV,” Jesse replied.

“Why don’t you try to find him,” George suggested. “I’ll stay with Forrester. Do you know which hospital they’ll likely take him to?” he asked Jesse.

“Yeah.”

“When you find Scott, bring him there.”

 

“I need a basket litter!” the rescuer shouted.

Fox stood by as they pulled the unconscious Starman from the coffin-sized hole and placed him in the litter. The EMT’s placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, and covered him with a blanket. George followed the two rescuers as they carried Paul to a waiting ambulance.

“I’d like to ride with him,” the ex-g-man asked as they loaded their victim inside.

“Are you a family member?”

“Yes,” he lied.

“Get in.”

Jesse and Kayla sat in the truck. “Where do you think he’d go?” she asked. “It’s been hours since he ran off.”

“I don’t know, but Dad says people in distress usually head for familiar places. We could try your house or the beach. Those are the only two places I can think he’d head for. They haven’t been in town that long.”

In the ambulance, the energy being that was the Starman detected a radical change in the environment. There’s more oxygen. Less carbon dioxide. I must be out. Paul began to stir. He opened his eyes, and saw Fox looking at him with a wide grin. Starman attempted to pull the mask off, but found his arms tied down by the nylon straps.

“Easy, Forrester. We’re taking you to the hospital to check you out for injuries.”

I think he’s changed.

“How do you feel? Does anything hurt?” the med-tech asked.

“Very tired and no,” Paul replied, his voice scratchy and hoarse from thirst. “Where’s Scott?”

“Who?”

“His son,” the ex-agent answered the man, and turned to Forrester. “Miss Kerrigan and Mr. Wolfe will bring him along.” He decided it was best not to mention they were presently searching for him. There was no need to additionally worry the Starman.

Kayla spotted Scott slowly walking back to town. Jesse drove across to the “wrong” side and pulled up to the young man, and rolled down the door window. “Scott! Hop in! They found your father!” he told him.

“He’s alive!” Kayla added.

Scott stopped in his tracks, dumbstruck. “What?”

“Your dad’s alive,” the woman repeated. “C’mon. Get in and we’ll take you to him.”

Scott could barely believe he’d heard the most wonderful words in the English language. He’d been given a miracle. He ran to the passenger side. Kayla opened the door and slid over. They raced to the hospital.

Scott jumped out of the truck and ran to the emergency room entrance. Kayla and Jesse followed close behind.

“May I help you?” the head nurse asked the anxious young man.

“Yeah. You can tell me, where’s my father? His name is Paul Forrester.”

George saw the alien’s son from his seat in the waiting room and went to him. “They’re examining him right now,” he said.

Scott fought down his repulsion at being in such close proximity to the ex-g-man. “Is he okay? I want to see him,” he demanded to the nurse.

“If you’ll take a seat, I’ll inform the doctor you’re here,” she said and left.

“C’mon, let’s sit down,” Kayla said and urged Scott to the waiting area.

He took a seat nearest the corridor so he could see the nurse when she returned. Kayla, Jesse and George sat opposite him. “Is my dad okay?” he asked Fox again.

“As far as I could tell, yes. He asked for you in the ambulance. I told him your friends were bringing you.”

The tidbit of news noticeably seemed to ease Scott’s anxiety.

Starman’s son was quickly losing his patience. He’d filled out the additional necessary paperwork and watched the nurse he’d spoken with come and go from her station several times, yet she still hadn’t called him. He finally decided he’d had enough and went to stand in front of her desk. “I’ve been waiting forty-five minutes. Please, I’d like to see my father,” he asked again, trying to remain polite.

She looked into his worried eyes. “Let me check with the doctor again,” she said.

When the nurse appeared at the security doors this time, she motioned for him to come. “It’s bed number eight,” she said and gave him directions to the trauma unit.

“Thank you.”

Scott looked around the room at the plaque numbers above each patient’s bed. The lower numbers were to the left. He went around the bend to the right. “Dad!” he softly cried in relief as he spotted Starman. He quickly approached and bent forward to embrace him.

Paul smiled at the sight of his son and held him tightly. “What took you so long?” he asked. “Mr. Fox told me in the ambulance Kayla and Jesse were bringing you.”

Scott straightened up. “I’ve been in the waiting room with them for almost an hour,” he sighed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Paul reassured. “Very tired, but otherwise, fine. See for yourself,” he said and indicated the machine monitoring his heartbeat and blood pressure.

Scott checked the readings. To his untrained eye, everything seemed to be within the normal range for a human. “So let’s get out of here.”

“I’d like nothing more, but the doctor said he’s not finished examining me. He said he wants to do more tests.”

Scott was perfectly aware of what would happen if these people should start examining his father more closely. There would be questions followed with more questions. His worry showed on his face.

Starman had an idea. “Is Fox out there?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Maybe he can help me. Would you please bring him here?”

He reluctantly agreed with a sigh.

George looked at the Starman as he lay in the bed, hooked up to a monitor. The sight eerily reminded him of the time Forrester was on the verge of death from a simple cold. He shook off the haunting thought. “Scott said you wanted to see me.”

“Yes. I have a problem.” At Fox’s curious expression, he explained. “The doctor has already performed some tests on me,” he said and showed him the bandage covering the spot where they drew blood. “They want to do more. You know what will happen when they read the results.”

“Yes,” George answered. “But I’m retired, Forrester. I don’t work for the government anymore. I don’t have the authority I used to to confiscate those test results. All I can tell you is, just refuse to take the tests. They can’t do anything without your permission. As for what they have so far, they’ll have to dismiss it as an anomaly or a mistake.”

The doctor assigned to Paul’s case arrived to check on him again.

“How is Mr. Forrester?” Fox asked, making a mental note of the physician’s name on his ID tag.

“I’m sorry. Who are you?”

“George Fox. A friend,” he simply said. “This is Scott, Mr. Forrester’s son.”

The doctor nodded and addressed the young man. “He doesn’t have any broken bones or internal injuries. So far, all we can tell is that he’s a little dehydrated.” It was truly amazing considering what the Starman had been through. “We’d like to give him a unit of fluid and keep him overnight for observation if that’s okay?”

“No,” Paul spoke up.

“Mr. Forrester. I strongly suggest,” the doctor started, but George stepped closer and leaned over to whisper something to the Starman.

After a moment, Paul said, “You may give me the fluid, but I am not staying overnight. Nor will I allow you to do any more tests,” he finished.

Without his consent, the doctors had no choice and reluctantly released him late that afternoon.

“Damn,” Fox said at the sight of the large group of reporters waiting for the famous photojournalist just outside the glass doors. He glanced at the Starman. “Congratulations. You’re a celebrity,” he sarcastically joked, and noticed the alien was not amused.

“Cool!” Kayla said.

“No, it’s not,” Scott frowned. “I’d like to know who tipped them off.”

Kayla glanced at Jesse.

“What?” he defensively retorted.

George read the silent plea for help in Paul’s eyes. “Just relax. I’ll handle them,” he said. “Mr. Wolfe, if you would please, bring your vehicle up so Mr. Forrester can get in quickly.”

“Okay.”

“Stay in here until I tell you to come out,” Fox instructed. “Then just get in. Don’t stop to talk to any of them. I’ll give them a short statement and keep this as brief as possible.” He looked at Jesse. “Let’s go.”

The reporters descended upon them as soon as they exited.

“Go,” George said to the sheriff’s son and faced the media people, pulling them off to the side. “Mr. Forrester is fine. There are no injuries. He’s a bit shaken and tired and needs rest. He requests that you please give him some privacy. That’s all.”

Jesse pulled the truck in front of the entrance. Fox motioned for Scott, Paul and Kayla to come.

Unsatisfied with the information given them, one reporter shouted, “Mr. Forrester, how does it feel to escape the jaws of death?”

Paul ignored them and climbed into the bed of the pickup. Scott and Fox were right behind and Kayla quickly hopped into the cab. They sped off.

“How did you ever survive that blast?” Kayla asked Forrester through the open window of the cab.

“I’ll tell you everything when we get back to town,” Starman said in a raised voice over the noise of the wind and Jesse’s loud muffler. Still feeling exhausted from his efforts, he leaned against Scott’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

Fox scrutinized the alien more closely as they rode back to Breckenridge. He came to a conclusion he either missed or ignored all these years. He does have limitations. After witnessing the Starman’s awesome powers on more than one occasion, he believed nothing could stop the alien. What he saw in front of him now clearly indicated otherwise. He really looks wiped out. “Are you sure you’re all right Forrester? Maybe you should have stayed overnight at the hospital.”

Paul opened his eyes and smiled. “I’ll be fine. I just need some time to regain my strength.”

They gathered at the police station, to Scott’s discomfort. He doubted he would ever be able to relax. The sheriff was there, but the deputy was out on a call. It was still quite hectic. A couple persistent news reporters who followed them were just outside, wanting to get their big story on the famous photographer. Ron Wolfe drew the Venetian blinds. It would take weeks for the normal quiet of the sleepy seaside town to return.

“Mr. Forrester. How are you?” the sheriff asked.

Starman smiled. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Not a scratch on him, if you can believe that,” Jesse added.

“You sound disappointed I was not hurt.”

“No, not at all. I’m just surprised,” he said in defense.

“I think we all are,” Kayla said and poured herself some coffee. “Can you tell us what happened?” she asked. “I mean, after we saw the building collapse…”

Starman explained in the simplest terms the physical law of equal resistance and what such an effect had had on him. “I was using my strength very fast. When the ground began to shake the second time, I didn’t have enough left to get myself out, so I concentrated on forming a pocket around me. But that created another problem. I was sealed inside without an air supply to breathe. I tried to use my sphere like a laser to create a tube to the surface so I could get some fresh air. I just guessed which direction to shoot it. There was a powerful explosion. I don’t know what happened. It knocked the sphere from my hand, shifted the debris and blocked my air tube.”

“That must be when the gas tank blew,” the sheriff said. “From our viewpoint, we thought you had been crushed to death, or at the very least, buried alive. Then when the tank went up, I thought you’d just become cooked meat. The chance you were still alive was very slim.”

“I thought I’d lost you,” Scott agreed. “I tried to contact you with my sphere, but when you didn’t answer… I assumed you were dead,” he admitted and began to choke up.

Paul felt a deep stab of pain at the news. “I’m sorry you thought that. I couldn’t find my sphere. It was buried somewhere out of my reach. If I had still had it in my hand, I would have answered you and let you know I was okay,” he said. “As it was, the only thing I could do to stay alive until you found me, was force this body into a deep meditative state far more intense than ordinary sleep. I didn’t know how long it would take you to uncover me.”

“Wise thinking,” the sheriff commented. “Slow the heart, slow the breathing, much less air required.”

“That explains why the EMT at first said he couldn’t find your pulse,” Fox added.

“It took all night,” Jesse told him. “The volunteers and all of us here worked non-stop.”

Starman smiled. “I’m very grateful.” He broke the chain of thought. “Scott, let me have your sphere,” he said.

“Um, I don’t have it,” the young man sheepishly admitted.

George pulled the metal marble from his pocket. “I have it,” he spoke up and gave it to the Starman.

Paul studied both men’s faces. He was visibly confused. How did Mr. Fox end up with it?

“I’ll explain later, Dad.”

“What are you going to do?” Kayla asked.

He grinned at her with gentle eyes. “I can find mine through Scott’s,” he said. He stood, went to the door and cautiously opened it. The nosey reporters were gone for the moment. “Show me where you found me,” he asked them.

Everyone made their way to the rubble that was the former restaurant. Nobody was there now.

“Here,” Jesse said and pointed to the gaping hole.

Paul knelt by the opening. “If the rest of you would stand around me so no one can see this, I’d appreciate it,” he said.

They formed a half circle, blocking anyone’s view from the street.

He activated Scott’s sphere. Come to me,he commanded while holding his free hand over the opening. Almost instantly, his sphere flew into his palm. He deactivated Scott’s and returned it to him.

“Far out!” Jesse exclaimed. “Neat trick. Can we see you do something else with that thing?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you could make that ring of lights in the sky.”

Starman raised his eyebrows in surprise. How does he know about that? Either Scott or Fox must have told him,he concluded. I can find out later. He regretted disappointing the tall young man. “I think you’ve seen too much already.”

“I agree,” Fox injected and eyed the sheriff’s son with a serious warning stare. “Do you remember what I said last night about keeping this a secret?”

The ex-agent’s cold iron-like glare was enough to scare Jesse into compliance. He quickly averted his eyes.

“So what will you do now?” Kayla asked.

“Scott and I will leave,” Starman informed them.

“Why? Your secret is safe with us,” she said and gave Jesse a warning stare of her own.

He smiled. “I know,” he said in a gentle voice. “And we thank you, but I’m sure you have many questions you’d like me and Scott to answer. I think it’s better if we left them unanswered.”

Scott looked at his father. “Let’s stay, Dad. I like it here.”

Paul put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I think it’s best to leave. We still need to find your mother.”

“Stay here, Forrester,” Fox said in a tone sounding very much like a direct order. Scott gave him a defiant stare. Starman waited for the explanation.

“Your rescue received national exposure. I’ll even bet global to a limited degree. It was all over the airwaves and picked up by the press. I’d say the chances Jenny Hayden saw it is very high. If she did… I think you get my point.”

He thought about that. Liz Baines and Wayne and Phyllis Geffner probably saw it, too. I need to call them as soon as I can. “You’re right.” There was still one potential problem remaining. “Will the FSA be reopening my file after all this publicity?”

“I doubt it,” George said. “Once they close a case, it almost takes an executive order to reopen it without just cause. More than likely, your file’s in a storage vault somewhere and it’ll stay there.”

“In that case, we’ll stay,” he announced.

“Great!” Kayla said. “I guess I’d better head home and find out if I still have a house standing.”

“We’d better do the same, Dad,” Jesse suggested.

“I already did,” Ron replied. “It’s fine.”

“I need to find an auto glass repair shop,” Fox said with dismay.

Paul and Scott glanced at each other. “We should see how the inn made out,” Starman told them.

The deputy walked up to them. He had returned from his call. “You can forget that,” he announced having overheard the last statement. “No one’s going inside there for a while. At least not until the safety inspector looks it over. It got damaged pretty bad.”

“Where are we going to stay tonight?” Scott asked with some concern. “Everything we have is in there.”

“You can stay with my family,” Sheriff Wolfe said. “Jesse, my wife and I would be more than happy to have you at our house for as long as it takes.”

Paul sensed Scott was not keen on the idea of spending any amount of time with anyone in, or connected to, law enforcement. Years of living as a fugitive were to blame. It was time to change that if they were going to start a new life as free citizens. “We accept,” he said.

The reporters were coming back. “Mr. Forrester. A moment with you please,” one of them said.

Scott looked at them with unhappiness. He wished these people would just leave him and his father alone.

“We’d like to ask you some questions if we could,” the taller of the two said.

Scott leaned close and whispered in Starman’s ear, “Just tell them ‘no comment’ and let’s get out of here.”

Paul considered his son’s suggestion, but thought if they were to start living in peace, perhaps he should satisfy them and get it over with. He agreed to give them their interview.

“Why don’t we all go back to my office?” the sheriff said.

Starman kept the interview short, telling them how tired he was. The reporters left. The sheriff sent Deputy Drummey out to check on another call.

“You handled that rather well,” Fox told the Starman.

“Thank you. If you can collect all the glass, I can fix your windows with this,” he said with a smile and held up the silver marble.

Any chance to save money was welcomed by the ex-g-man. “Not a problem. Just tell me where and when you want to do it.”

“You can drive your RV tonight to the garage at the back of the station,” Sheriff Wolfe said. “I think that should provide you with enough privacy.”

He agreed. “I’ll see you tonight then. Try to get some rest, Forrester,” Fox suggested in a friendly tone.

Paul grinned. “I will. After I call some people and let them know I’m okay,” he replied.

George nodded and left. Kayla and Jesse followed.

“May I use your telephone?” Starman asked the sheriff.

“The lines are out, but you can use my cell phone,” he offered.

Paul thanked him and placed the first call to Liz Baines. She had indeed seen the televised broadcast of his rescue. As he expected, she was full of concern and had plenty of questions for him.

“Are you all right?” Liz asked. “I saw Fox get in the ambulance after they loaded you inside. And then I caught him giving the reporters a statement on your behalf. What the hell is going on? Are you and Scott okay?”

“First, I’m fine. I have some good news,” he started. “My file is closed. I’m not wanted by the government anymore, and neither is Scott.”

“Does this mean what I think it means? You’re free?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Paul. Thank God!” she cried in relief.

Starman smiled at her use of the deity. Just as quickly she was serious again. “Then I don’t understand. Why is Fox there? He didn’t track you down just to tell you himself. It smells, Paul. I don’t trust him.”

He explained to her about the sheriff’s son picking them up and then doing a little investigative work on the computer. “He found the book,Eye Of The Storm.” He then told her about the sheriff pulling his file up on the police computer. “It showed there were no wants or warrants out on me. I’m free. As for George Fox,” he stopped and took a deep breath, releasing it in a sigh. “I’m afraid it was a personal obsession. He was just determined to find me and Scott.”

“And now that he has?” she inquired.

“I’m not sure, but I think he’s getting comfortable with letting me go,” he told her.

There was a noticeable pause. “I hope you’re right about that,” she finally said.

“Trust me.”

“God knows I want to, Paul, but where that man is concerned, it’s very hard.”

He tried to reassure her again. “I’d like to talk longer with you, but I have to call Jenny’s brother and wife now. I imagine they’re just as anxious to hear from me.”

She understood. “Keep in touch and congratulations.”

Starman dialed Wayne Geffner. As he’d expected, he repeated his conversation with Liz almost verbatim. “Do you think Jenny saw it?”

“It’s hard to miss. It’s the top news story,” Wayne said. “They’re still replaying it on the news channels. I imagine it’ll be on the front page of tomorrow’s papers. All we can do is wait. The next few days will tell,” he replied hoping to relieve the Starman’s anxiety.

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to be staying in… what’s the name of that town again?”

“Breckenridge, yes,” he confirmed.

“And you’re sure about Fox?”

“About as sure as I can be,” he replied with a sigh.

Wayne let Paul know, “I’d hightail it out of there if I were you, but if you’re determined to stay, then so be it.”

“I am.”

Geffner wished him luck. “I’ll be calling you. Hopefully within a day or two, or God willing, sooner.”

Starman gave him the sheriff’s cell phone number. “You can reach me at that number for now until the telephone lines are restored.”

 

Late that evening, George drove his camper to the appointed meeting place. Starman was waiting there along with the sheriff and his son. In less than a minute the vehicle’s windows were restored. Sheriff Wolfe was finding himself still in awe of Paul Forrester’s powers and the discovery that he wasn’t from Earth.

“I wouldn’t use that too much if I were you,” Fox warned. “Your risk of exposure increases with each usage.”

“I know. I’m well aware of the danger,” Paul agreed.

George cringed at the double meaning. “You’ve managed to stay low-profile all these years. That’s going to be difficult to regain after your dramatic rescue. It’s going to take awhile for the spotlight to wear off.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“And we’ll do our best to protect him,” Ron added.

“Looks like your new friends are going to take care of you,” Fox said with a playful grin.

A silence overcame them as they regarded each other.

“What are your plans now?” Starman asked the ex-agent.

“I don’t know,” George admitted. “I was thinking of seeing a bit of the country before I settle down. I never really did before.”

“When do you plan on leaving?”

“Are you anxious to get rid of me?” the ex-g-man teased.

Paul’s face reddened. “When Jenny calls, I would prefer you not be here to frighten her away. She’s still very much afraid of you.”

Fox gave him a card. “You can reach me at that number. Call me sometime. I’d like to talk to you again,” he sincerely requested.

Now that the ex-agent had finally come around, Paul happily said, “I will.”

Having made the decision to stay in the small seacoast town, Paul had much work to do. First, he had to find an apartment. The only problem was there wasn’t much of a selection available due to the size of the town and the quake damage. He and Scott did not wish to burden their hosts any longer than necessary. He also wished to remove himself from their watchful eyes. It was the same whenever his special secret was revealed. Once whoever discovered, or was shown, who and what he was, they were unable to look at him or Scott in the same way again. Time would soften the view, but there would always be a certain something between them.

Second, he needed a car, but that could wait for a short while. When the safety inspector deemed it okay to allow people back into the inn, he and Scott would retrieve their belongings, most especially his camera.

“Jesse can drive you around,” Sheriff Wolfe said the next morning at the breakfast table.

The young man looked at him with eager excitement. “Be happy to. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

Paul and Scott started their search after reading the paper’s ads.

The taxi stopped in the driveway of the address the woman with short light hair, large sunglasses and western hat, requested.

“That’ll be eighteen seventy,” the driver said, turning around in his seat.

She handed him a twenty-dollar bill through the hole in the acrylic divider that separated the passengers from the driver. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.”

The woman opened the door.

“You want me to wait, lady?”

“No.” She got out.

He nodded and left.

She stood there a moment and nervously looked around, then took a deep breath to calm herself and walked to the front door. Her heart was racing as she rang the buzzer. A few seconds later the door opened.

The bearded man studied the woman standing in front of him. “Jenny?”

She smiled, quickly stepped forward and hugged her brother. “Wayne,” she cried. “I saw the TV report. I don’t care about Fox or the government anymore. I can’t lose him, Wayne,” she sobbed.

“Shh,” he crooned. “It’s all right, Jenny. Come into the kitchen,” he suggested.

Phyllis turned around and gasped in surprise. “Oh, my God! Jenny!” She wiped her hands on the towel and went to embrace the woman. “Sit down. Please.” She looked at her husband. “We were hoping you would call, but this is even better. Wait until we tell Paul you’re here.”

Jenny removed her sunglasses and hat and put them on the table. Her eyes were wide with longing. “You’ve heard from him?” she asked.

Wayne smiled. “He called yesterday.”

“Oh!” she gasped and put her hands to her mouth. Her emotions were quickly going on overload. “Is he… is he okay?”

“He’s fine.”

“I saw… I saw Fox,” she said, her voice getting shaky with fear.

“Easy, Jenny,” Wayne quickly reassured and took his sister’s hands. “Listen to me,” he emphasized. “You don’t have to worry about George Fox. Paul’s a free man. The government closed his case.”

She couldn’t believe it. “What? Say that again.”

“It’s true. Paul’s a free man,” he repeated. “Scott, too. The government isn’t looking for them anymore.”

Jenny began to cry with joy. Wayne embraced her until her sobs subsided.

“I want to talk to him.”

“I’ll call him right now.”

Ron Wolfe was in his squad car when he heard his cell phone ring. “Hello?” he answered.

“Hello. This is Wayne Geffner. Is Paul or Scott there?”

The sheriff quickly recalled the name. He was the man the Starman was expecting a call from if he’d heard from his sister. “I’m sorry. My son took them apartment hunting this morning. You can try calling again later, and if I see them in the meantime, I’ll have them call you.” Ron turned the car onto the next street. “Hang on a second. I see my son’s truck up ahead.” He parked the car and went to him. Looking inside the cab, he noticed neither Paul nor Scott was inside. “Where’s Mr. Forrester?”

“In there with the owner,” Jesse said and nodded to the cottage. “Why? What’s up?”

“I’ve got phone call for him. Do me a favor, son. Go get one of them and bring them out here.”

While Jesse did as he asked, Sheriff Wolfe told the man, “Just hold on a moment, Sir.”

Moments later, Scott came running out. “Wayne Geffner’s on the line,” he said as he handed the cell phone to the young man.

“Uncle Wayne?”

“Scott. Where’s your father?”

He told him his dad was signing papers to rent an apartment. “What is it? Have you heard from Mom?” he asked in hopeful anticipation.

“She’s right here,” Wayne replied. “Why don’t you talk to her yourself,” he said and passed the receiver to his anxiously waiting sister. Her hands were shaking.

“Scott?”

He felt his throat suddenly go dry and his heart pound when he heard the voice on the other end.

“Scott?” she repeated at not hearing a reply.

He didn’t know what to say. “Mom?” was all that came out. He heard her gasp.

“Yes, Scott. It’s me honey.

He felt a lump form in his throat. “Mom,” he said again for the second time, seemingly unable to get beyond the word. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. “I’ve been believing you would never come out of hiding,” he confessed.

“Oh, Scottie,” she said, using the name she called him as a baby. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. Really. I understand.” He spotted his father coming out of the house. “Dad! It’s Mom!” he shouted with excitement. “It’s Mom!”

Starman heard and smiled. Scott handed him the phone. “Hello, Jenny,” he said.

“Oh, Paul. It is you. Thank God. When I saw the TV report… I can’t lose you,” she said in a cracking voice.

“I’m fine,” he said trying to reassure her.

A darker thought entered her mind, one that made her shiver. “What about Fox? I saw him, too. Wayne said you were free, that the government closed the case. Is that true?”

“It’s true,” he confirmed.

“Then why was he there?”

This conversation reminded him of the one he had with Wayne and Liz. He told her about George’s personal obsession with finding him. “I think he’s gone, Jenny. I haven’t seen him.”

“Are you positive?”

“No, but even if he’s still here, it’s okay. He’s changed, Jenny. There’s no need to be afraid of him anymore.”

She breathed a cautious sigh of relief. “Oh, Paul. I want to be with you so badly.”

“We want to be with you, too,” he echoed.

“How soon can you be here?”

Paul furrowed his eyebrows. “I was hoping you would come here. I just rented a nice little two-bedroom apartment by the sea.”

“He wants me to go there,” she told Wayne, who was listening.

“Let me talk to him,” her brother said.

“Paul, I’m going to see if I can get us on a commercial flight today. If not, I’ll see if I can charter a private plane. If we’re lucky, maybe we can be there by tonight. We can meet you at the nearest airport. Do you know where that would be?”

“Just a minute,” he said and asked the lawman.

“North Bend.”

He relayed the location. “The only problem is I don’t have a car,” he told Jenny’s brother.

“What’s up?” Sheriff Wolfe asked.

Starman told him about Wayne’s plans. “He suggested we meet them at the airport.”

“Find out what time they’re expected to arrive,” the sheriff said. “I’m sure Jesse wouldn’t mind bringing you and Scott there. He can borrow his mother’s car.”

Paul passed on the question.

“We’ll call you back and let you know,” Wayne said. Jenny indicated she wanted to speak with him again before he hung up. “Paul, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I can’t wait to see you and Scott.” She didn’t want to terminate the conversation, but the sooner she did, then the sooner she would be reunited with her Starman. Reluctantly, she bid him, “Good-bye.”

“We’ll be waiting. Good-bye, Jenny.”

“I’m happy for you, Mr. Forrester,” Ron said.

“I’m happy, too.”

Wayne called less than an hour later and told Paul the soonest they would be able to arrive was tomorrow afternoon. They would be leaving Albuquerque tomorrow morning. That gave the Starman and his son the rest of today to clean and stock their new home. Jesse gladly took them to the grocery store and helped them unload. It was also his chance to ask questions and try to learn more about them. He still couldn’t get over the discovery that Paul and Scott were aliens. “Are there any more of, um, your people, here?” he asked Forrester.

Paul smiled and told him, “No,” as he handed Scott the paper plates and plastic utensils to put away.

Jesse was thinking about something that federal agent had told him and his dad. He decided to explore his theory. “Mr. Fox said you were as different from the Paul Forrester that made that book as night is to day.” Starman just looked at him with attentive eyes. “You didn’t make that book, did you?”

There was no reply.

“That means you’re not that Paul Forrester. What happened to him?” A chilling thought entered his mind. “Did you kill him?”

Paul sighed. This young man’s prying was precisely what he wished to avoid. Answering his questions was a potential threat to his and Scott’s safety, considering Jesse’s career choice. What to do? Scott was anxiously watching him. “I remember Mr. Fox saying something about keeping this a secret. If I know him as well as I think I do, I’m pretty sure he also warned you not to talk about this.”

“Yeah, sure. He said not to talk about it with anyone, but that doesn’t include you,” he countered in a defensive tone and waited.

After a long moment, Paul said, “I’ll tell you this much, and that will be all I’m going to say about it. I have never killed anyone and I never would.”

“So does that mean youarethat Paul Forrester?”

Starman just grinned at him and Scott refused to supply a definitive answer. He finally left, still trying to figure out whether this being was or wasn’t the same photojournalist.

The next afternoon, Paul and Scott watched the small planes land and the pilots park their craft on the tarmac. A white and blue striped Cessna had just touched down and was taxiing to a parking spot about a hundred feet from the building. They watched as the propeller stopped and the passenger door opened. Scott broke into a smile as he saw his uncle step out. “There they are!” He took a look at his father, then hurried out the door to meet them.

“I’ll wait here for you,” Jesse told Paul.

Starman nodded and followed his son onto the tarmac.

Scott found his heart pounding as he watched the woman with light hair step out of the airplane. They stood for a moment eyeing each other. “Mom?” he said. She looked so different from the one glimpse he remembered of her six years ago.

She nodded. “Yes, Scott.”

They embraced each other.

Jenny’s eyes filled with tears. After a long hug, she held her son out to arm’s length and looked at him more closely. “Scottie,” she choked and held his face in her hands. “My God. You’re all grown up.”

“Yes, he is,” Paul said with a smile.

Jenny let go and rushed into Starman’s embrace, kissing him. “I missed you so much,” she cried.

“I missed you, too.”

“I never want to miss you again.”

Wayne thanked the pilot and cleared his throat. He and Phyllis greeted Forrester and Scott.

“I think we should get going,” Paul told them. “Jesse’s waiting for us.”

“Jesse?” Jenny asked.

“He’s the sheriff’s son,” Scott said. “He gave us a ride here.”

Paul and Scott, friends with the law? That surprised her. It was only now the truth of it was finally sinking in, and all that that meant. They really were free. There was no need to run and hide, from the law, the government, George Fox, or anyone else.

“I called ahead and rented a car,” Wayne said. “You can ride with us if you want.”

Paul looked at his son. It was clear Scott preferred riding with his mother and aunt and uncle rather than with the sheriff’s son. “You help Wayne with the luggage,” he said. “I’ll tell Jesse our transportation situation has changed.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Forrester,” Jesse said. “My mom’s waiting for me to bring the car back.”

“Thank you for bringing us here.”

“I guess I’ll see you folks around.” He waved good-bye and left.

 

Jenny’s eyes opened wide as she saw the house. “I love it,” she told Paul and kissed him.

They went inside the cedar shake sided cottage.

“Home sweet home,” Scott said.

“It is now,” Jenny agreed.

The party began. After a dinner of frozen pizza, Paul called everyone’s attention for an announcement. “Twenty years ago I came here, met a very special woman, and my life changed forever,” he said as he gazed at Jenny. “I didn’t know it would take this long for us to come together as a family. There were many obstacles that got in our way, but we overcame them and it has finally happened. There’s only one more thing left to do to make this family complete.”

They waited for him to reveal whatever it was.

Paul took Jenny’s hands, knelt in front of her and looked into her beautiful eyes. “Will you marry me, Jenny Hayden?”

“Yes!” she squealed with joy and pulled him into a tight embrace, planting a firm kiss on his lips. “Just say when my love.”

 

The next day Paul decided to call George Fox. The telephone lines were working again. Wayne was in the bathroom taking a shower. Scott, Jenny and Phyllis were out of the house, having taken the rented car to the grocery store to stock the kitchen with something other than frozen dinners and pizza. “Is this what you two have lived on?” Jenny had asked him in dismay.

When he sheepishly replied, “Yes,” she retorted, “It’s a wonder you’ve survived all these years eating that junk.”

He heard the ex-agent answer the ring. “Hello, Mr. Fox.”

“Forrester,” George responded with surprise. “Is something wrong?” he asked in concern.

“No,” he reassured. “I just wanted to let you know Jenny’s here. She saw my rescue on television and contacted her brother.”

“I’m glad. How’s it going?”

“All right. Jenny and Scott are out right now grocery shopping.”

Fox wondered about Starman calling him in her presence, especially this soon after their reunion. Now he understood.

“We’re adjusting to being a family.”

An awkward kind of silence followed. Initializing small talk was not one of Paul’s strong suits, but he decided to tell George the news. “I’m going to marry her.”

“I thought as much. So when is the big event going to take place?”

“As soon as possible,” he told the ex-g-man. “We’re going for the license today. Jenny said the Justice of the Peace will marry us.”

“Well, I wish you luck, Forrester.”

Starman thanked him.

Another silence followed. Fox decided this was enough conversation for this time. Neither he nor Forrester were comfortable yet talking to each other. It was better not to push too hard or fast. There was plenty of time to get to know each other later. “Thank you for calling. Keep in touch.”

“I will.”

The wedding took place four days later. It was a simple ceremony. Wayne and Phyllis Geffner were the witnesses. Scott served as the ring bearer.

“Welcome to the family, Paul,” Wayne said. “You take good care of my little sister now,” he teased.

“I intend to,” Starman reassured and kissed his bride.

“I’ll make sure he does,” Jenny told her brother.

It was the perfect end to a great day. Scott was grinning from ear to ear. They had finally found his mother and his parents had sealed the union legally. He had everything he’d wished for.

THE END

A Time For Everythingis an amateur production for the enjoyment of Starman fans and is in no way intended to infringe on any copyrights. All similarities to real characters and actual events are strictly coincidental. This material may not be copied or reproduced in any form without the express written consent of the author. Copyright July 2001. All rights reserved.


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